Last Night…

…the fears of my mother came
knocking, and when I
opened the door
they tried to explain themselves
and I understood
everything they said.

By Lucille Clifton (written in 1974)

Its actually a bit uncomfortable to admit, but the older I grow the more understanding I am of my mother and the women before her. Below is a photo of my mother’s hands holding my granddaughter’s.


Though many years are knocking on the door between them they are both women of the same house. They know each other and they understand.


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