For all the times

For all the times my mama said, I do know what it means, but you need to look it up.

For all the times my mama said, you’re not getting an airbrush t-shirt or no, you may not have a weird haircut, or black is too growny for you,

For the million and twelve times she said run through it again and drop the “uhs” and “ums”,

For the trillions of times she said stand up straight, nobody likes a slouchy short person,

For all the times she said well, you’re old enough to be aware of the consequences of your actions; don’t be late for supper,

For all the hundreds of thousands of times she made practice tests for me until we both knew I knew it all,

For investigating before marching herself to school and taking names and kicking butts,

For never once pointing out I looked like Billy Carter,

For always saying Susan has prominent teeth rather than Susan has buck teeth,

For never asking me why if I needed money,

For bringing home my baby brother, who became my best friend,

For taking in strays, people and animals, and looking after them,

For always telling me you can do better, Susan,

For being hilariously dry.

For pushing good subject/verb agreement like it was her job,

And for that one time she said, oh, dry up, kid, it’s not even one of the important ones,

Happy mother’s day to my mama, the inimitable Miss Jan.

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About S.

Reader, writer, talker, knitter, picture taker, tennis player, music lover, Southerner.
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