she would’ve been sixty today.

10 Apr

6am aneurysm.

 You told me that I looked like her once,
as if it were some simple compliment
you could pay to a stranger on the street.
How can seeing another face in the mirror
ever be taken as a blessing? People
constantly comparing the way I look, the way
I speak, the way I walk, the way I carry my
books pressed against my chest. All they
see is her, her, her, her to a fucking tee.

I once made my computer applications
teacher cry in front of an entire class by
reciting the simple fact of who my mother
used to be. Little had I known of her
friendship with the departed. As she broke
down in tears, I felt so embarrassed, like
the fault fell on me for being the daughter
of a dead woman.

I’m reminded everywhere I look of a life
that crumbled to pieces ten years ago.
Tom Hanks movies, cat collections,
song creating, humungous scrunchies,
lizard impressions, lilies in spring, red.
Each taken away from me before I knew
the meaning of the word teenager.

God she loved red.

I wish I could be her more than anything, but
I’m not. I’m simply the shadow of a ghost.

One Response to “she would’ve been sixty today.”

  1. Mac April 11, 2013 at 4:08 PM #

    Julia, I frakking love this. I LOVE THIS. It’s so telling and wonderful. Seeing Ms. K cry must have been awkward as hell.

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