Love Always

Apparently, I laugh like you
and you work too hard. I wish
you would retire to mystery novels
in the patio sun
and aromas of broccoli casserole and
mint chocolate chip dessert.

You told me to consider
popping birth control pills
before college
and scratched my back
before bedtime.

Poolside, you watched me in the water,
never daring to enter the mermaids' domain
but a phone call away when
essays needed red pen
stains.

You told me to consider
marrying a doctor or the like.
Why did I cry in the seventh grade
when M-- H-- insulted Democrats, as if
he spat directly in the face of you,
You
you consummate hostess,
       consummate ear,
       consummate seeker.

Sometimes, I think of you
as in your wedding photo,
that album tucked away in a drawer.
An English major, sociology minor
and her mane of autumn hair,
the half-smile
hiding and bestowing
so much.

Your sociology major, English minor,
autumn-haired
daughter
finds she laughs and smiles
much the same.
Apparently.