Here’s the assignment for day 2 of Poetry.
My mom, my hero and fellow blogger, is a marathoner. She has a race this Sunday, where she hopes to qualify for the Boston Marathon. Here is my way of wishing her good luck.
Robust sense of determination, like a kid learning to ride a two-wheeler.
You trUly inspire me, like on January first, anything is possible for you.
I caN’t imagine running 26.2 miles; kind of like thinking of infinity.
WheN you cross that finish line an ice-cold fountain Diet Coke will be waiting, which is like liquid heaven to you.
Your caninE supporters will get so excited when we get home, like at dinnertime.
I guess what I’m saying is, no matteR your place, for us, it will be like you won.
Good luck, Mom!
Every kid has done the “My Hero” essay in elementary school. I know I did, but elementary school was over twenty years ago and for the life of me I can’t remember who I picked. Some hero, huh? It was most likely a celebrity, or at least somebody well known.
I have grown up, obviously, since then. I realize now that my true hero was, and still is, Linda Tharp, my mother. Mom shaped me into who I am today: take no guff from anybody, but have a softer side. I got away with nothing as a kid. Between she and Dad, I remember spending a lot of time in my room, but the next day I would come home from school and the house would have a chocolaty aroma, brownies or chocolate chip cookies cooling on the counter.
But my favorite memory was in the summer of 1998. I was in the hospital recovering from a brain injury the doctors still can’t explain. Technically I was in a coma, but my brain was working like it always had. Mom and Dad came every day, Mom taking the morning shift. She would talk to me like as she always has, just filling me on the news at home or reading the newspaper. It was such a comfort. I just wish I could be Mom (at least to a human child, you’ll meet Maggie next) so I could show my daughter the type of love my mother has showed me.