Scott Whitby, 2023
The most cherished of my childhood memories is waking up in a cold room without the wherewithal to find my cover. From what seemed nowhere, a quilt would fall across me. It felt so heavy. Before I was a parent I could not understand how she knew.
Another is my mom singing How Great Thou Art while she cleaned the kitchen. She sang it from the context of a sad woman. Her voice would soar "then sings my soul!". Even as a small boy I heard her implication that her life was not what she needed, but even though "my soul sings".
I wish she could read this poem for her.
She'd rock me to sleep and sing
Softly kiss my cheek
Lay me down in that warm soft bed
And leave without a peep
I could hear How Great Thou Art
When sometimes I'd wake up cold
She'd cover me up with a heavy quilt
One that she had sewed
I hope that my own kids know
And pass it to their own
The love only a mom can show
And leave memories for when they are grown
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