In The Season of Tissues

 

My mother believed,
            Well, she believed a lot of things
Like pocketbooks and shoes should match,
Lettuce must be torn and not cut,
And Richard Nixon was a crook.
But
She also believed that everything
From colds to flu
To upset stomachs
To a broken heart,
Could be mended
If not outright cured
With soda crackers and warm ginger-ale.
Toss in a couple of red and white cans
Of Cambell's chicken noodle soup
And there you'd have it,
An entire professional pharmacopeia
In a brown paper bag.

But mostly,
It was the love I remember,
The cool hand on my forehead,
The smell of Vapo-rub on my chest,
The way she'd check-in regularly,
Or let me wrap up in a blanket on the couch,
And watch her favorite soap opera,
As she ironed shirts and pillow cases.

That is why I always have soda crackers
And cans of soup in my pantry,
You never know when the most simple gesture
Will be just what the doctor ordered,
When a bit of flour and water
And a little something sweet,
Might help bring down a fever
Or lighten a burden.

I think this is why my daughter,
(who is now a grown woman living in a busy urban center)

Will still call me when she's "meepy"

Which is the word we use to describe

Feeling a little flu-ish and vulnerable,

And I'll call her "honey" and "poor baby"

And ask if her husband can stop on his way home

For soda crackers and ginger ale,

Maybe some soft tissues

The ones with aloe in them.

And she always says "Thanks Mom"

And I always think "Thanks Mom"

And the whole world feels more tender

More caring,

More worthy of saving,

Because love continues to hold steady

In large and small ways

Resonating for generations

Or lightening our days

Right here and right now,

In the season of tissues.

--Carrie Newcomer