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Hello Poets,
Happy December. The cold of winter has certainly arrived here. There's no dumping of snow like my northern friends are experiencing. But, I did pull out layers of sweaters, vests and a heavy jacket to keep warm these days.
A new month means a new prompt for the Inklings to respond to. From Heidi: Address an item of your clothing.
I've been missing my Mom lately. Maybe it's the holiday season or, it's just been so long since she passed. Either way, I miss her. Thank goodness for her old blue puff-vest.
Dear Blue Puffy Vest,
It’s been sixteen years since Mom has worn winter clothes.
Long enough now, you could have a license to drive
those back-country dirt roads she learned to love.
She’s been gone these years too.
You’re still that same shade of blue
her eyes flashed
a bluejay on a winter’s lap of snow.
I didn’t take you the first or second or even third trip
to her house after the funeral.
It wasn’t until I saw you in the donation pile,
stains down the front from her walks through the woods,
coffee in hand.
I saw you in that heap of clothes still in the shape of her
and I longed for her hug, how she’d
rub my back in just that way to let me know
she loved me, best as she could.
That’s what made me pick you up, hold you at arm’s length
before trying you on and thinking oh, hey – she’s with me still.
I will grow into the shape of these hugs
as best I can in my seasons of missing her.
Linda Mitchell 12/5/25
Keep up with other Inkling responses to this prompt:
Mary Lee Hahn @ A(nother) Year of Reading
Catherine Flynn @ Reading to the Core
Molly Hogan @ Nix the Comfort Zone
Margaret Simon @ Reflections on the Teche
Heidi Mordhorst @ my juicy little universe
Linda, I feel this poem so deep (and puffy!). That line about you could have had a license to drive... brilliant! And how we value the life (stains) of an item when it's all we have left. Beautiful! xo
ReplyDeleteThese lines grabbed my heart, too:
ReplyDelete"Long enough now, you could have a license to drive
those back-country dirt roads she learned to love."
I have many pairs of my mom's sewing scissors and I love to feel her hands in mine when I'm making. They are with us always, right?
So beautiful, loving, and poignant, Linda! I especially like:
ReplyDelete"I will grow into the shape of these hugs
as best I can in my seasons of missing her."
Missing my mom too, who's been gone 11 years. Hugs to you!
Such a beautiful tribute to you and your Mom. The line: "I saw you in that heap of clothes still in the shape of her" touched me deeply. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, Linda! Growing into the shape of her hugs is so poignant. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteSweet and loving post, Linda,. showing the many memories brought with a beloved's piece of clothing? Knowing about her walks in the woods, I love the connection with the coat and the bluejay!
ReplyDeleteOhhhh, deeply do I love this, LInda! I adore the idea that the puffy vest could have a driver's license, and this line: "a bluejay on a winter’s lap of snow."
ReplyDeleteLinda, What is it about winter that makes us miss our mothers more? This poem is a lovely tribute to her and to her coat that called to you from the donation pile. That happened to me with her scarves. You captured the image beautifully in your poem, the longing for her hugs, and the comfort of knowing she is with you still.
ReplyDeleteDear Linda, You couldn't hear my voice catch or see my wet eyes when I read: "Still in her shape," but I want to You to know that your devotional letter to your dear Mom's blue vest & for me, especially that phrase, is sublime. She's smiling down on you ....
ReplyDeleteHugs from your big fan, JAN
Your words fill me with longing for a mother gone 34 years. No clothing in my closet, but I do have pillowcases she embroidered that I use every week. These words speak to me: "I longed for her hug." For me, it's the way we held hands as we shopped or walked.
ReplyDeleteThis prompt was really fruitful for you, Linda. It resulted in such a touching narrative poem. Great details and word choice. xo
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful poem and I felt you pick up that puffy vest. How I still miss my mom, gone almost 26 years. I have none of her clothes but clasp my hands at the table, I can see her sitting in the same way.
ReplyDeleteOh Linda -- how beautiful to be held in the comfort and memories of your mom's puffer. I love that your find her in the blue, in the coffee stains, in the shape of her. What a gift to hold you!
ReplyDeleteOh, Linda, this is just beautiful. These lines carry so much emotional heft:
ReplyDelete"Long enough now, you could have a license to drive
those back-country dirt roads she learned to love." Your poem resonates so much with me. Just yesterday, I used a dessert stand that had been my parents at my son and daughter-in-law's baby shower. Even though I'm pretty sure they never used it, just knowing it had been theirs made it feel like part of them was participating in the event. A comfort for sure. I have one of my mother's coats and wear it from time to time. I love your tribute to your mom and am so glad you have that puffy vest.
It's the everyday items that hold the memories we cherish. Your heart-felt poem is beautiful, Linda.
ReplyDelete