51 years

       If you were still here.I would remind you of the hot, heavy and humid June day when you were finally born-fighting the forceps that yanked you, almost against your will from the womb.You loved these sweltering days-you were born to thrive above 90 degrees, I believe. You were a heat up the grill and ice down the beer kind of guy; call everyone up and go camping at the lake kind of man. My son. My first born with almost a twin-like hold on me…Oh, I miss you. Yes, I know you have been gone already fifteen years. Yes, I have moved on-it’s just I drag your smiling spirit along for the ride. There are so many things, I would like to sit on the deck and discuss with you. The world as it is now, which is nothing like the world you left behind. Politics-I imaging we might bump heads on that one; the concept of Face Book and Instagram.                                                                                 I checked the freezer for Elgin sausage and fat chicken legs; I will barbecue inside because I never  liked the weather this time of year. I did hear it might rain, too. I might make a chocolate cake and you would eat it all and then rub your full stomach and SMILE.                                                                                                                                                      I guess that is what I miss the most, my son, your smile; how the smile started in your eyes before making its way down to your mouth.  That is how I remember you, how I always see you in my mind’s eye.                                                                                               I hope where you are there is a lake with a great place to swim, and cook for your friends and family; where the weather is to your liking and there’s a smooth spot to pitch your tent. Happy birthday, Steve.

“Flowers in her hair, flowers everywhere”

"Your hair is like mums,"
Words murmured fifty years past
Today, mums remind.

©Nancilynn Saylor
15 October 2017