Several weeks ago, I came across the following poem. As my fiance and I perused the wares at an estate sale, we made our way to the attic. Tucked neatly away in an old armoire was a poem written by a son to his mother. The agency conducting the sale was unaware of the amoire's contents, nor did they care. But the words on faded notebook paper bore witness to a loving declaration made circa 1946. It was a declaration born of guilt and angst, one of forgotten moments. It is a sad reminder of what happens when we wrap ourselves in the whirlwind of daily life that we forget to LIVE and savor our loved ones. It is a declaration that should not be forgotten.
"Apology to Mother"
You, dear mother, was born on the 15th of September.
That is one of the dates I ought to remember.
But I didn't this year,
So there's something I fear.
Perhaps your feelings were hurt this year.
But Mother, dear mother, now that it's gone past,
Forgive me cause the time flew so fast.
Ed Siebenhar
Your Son
