You Were

"You Were," after
"Litany," by Billy Collins

You were the earth mother, the bread baker, the weaver.
You were the gardener, the farm wife, the maker of curtains.

You were not the perfect wife, the keeper of tranquility, the rock.
You tried, but you failed.

You tried to be Ruth, with your "whither thou goest I will go,"
but that got old after a while.

You tried to let him follow his elusive dream, but eventually it turned into,
"If you go for your Ph.D., you go alone."

You were the Little House wife and mother, but also the thesis typist and editor.
You were the seamstress, of mother/daughter dotted swiss dresses,
the dollmaker, and Pooh and Eyore too.

You were not the committed daughter,
and you have never forgiven yourself.

You were the starter of projects, but not always the finisher.
You were the music lover, and reader, and lover of beautiful things.

Eventually you were even the minister, but never the preacher.
And you only had so much strength in you, and so had to give it up,
in order to survive.

Now you are the writer of memories,
But with your heart too much on your sleeve.

You never were very good with boundaries,
And so you write, and then have to go back and unwrite.

You are a very good grandmom, one of the three.
And loved, much loved, by those to whom you have been given.

You will be the world's oldest hippie.
Happy and content to complete the circle.