Momma's Story

by Christine Cheesbro
(Bryan,Ohio)

Kids with dolls, trucks and bikes we would ride, Our Momma was there for us after the "Big Divide"

Momma said it was her faith that carried her through,
In the night at times she'd cry, Dear God, What will I do"

Years went by--in time we all grew,
Momma still battling with what to do,
Children were leaving,,going on with their lives,
Momma was trying just to survive,

A man she met--seemed to heal the wounds,,
But her heart was still held by a man she once knew,,
Through achohol, abuse, and illness too
She held on day by day, what else could she do,

Her mind all torn and body so tired,
The hospital at time was what was required,
She fought so hard--memoies she had,
At times that man she loved,,at him she was mad,

The man she married has gone to his grave,
alot of good years, to him she gave,
She can relax, enjoy her sunny days,
In the garden at times, seems like old ways,

Grandchildren and family, these days she sees,
And finally her life seems to feel the ease,
Some uphill battles with Dr.'s to see,
But up in her 80's, sometimes she must be,

Fifty years later, with gray in her hair,
Yes her children sadly were there,
Crying good bye with tears in her eyes,
Tell Daddy to that we said, Goodbye,




Momma couldn't be with the man she loved,
Sometimes she felt a push and a shove,
Gone to be with the man she loved,
God said "you can be here together, here and in love,

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The Wedding

by KIm Bolduc-Bartlett
(China, Maine)

The Wedding


She has just woken up from her nap and is upset. She was dreaming that she had forgotten to go to my youngest brother’s wedding. I remind her, that she did go to the wedding, and that she looked beautiful that day.

We spoon her ice chips and talk about the wedding. She falls back asleep again. My oldest brother and I, look at each other, silent tears falling from our faces.

I find a wedding picture of my brother, his wife, my stepfather and her.

When she wakes up again, I show her the photo. She’s more lucid and coherent. She tells me “Not that wedding, my own wedding. I thought I had missed my own wedding.”

Out of respect to my stepfather, who is sitting at the table beside her, I do not dare to ask…which wedding?

Kim Bolduc-Bartlett

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