Mom tells me she has One Good Story in her:
Relatives huddle around the kitchen table
Close in proximity, but enjoying a private moment
Mumbling each to themselves,
“Komm, Herr Jesu,”
It’s a modern story
In a time of electricity,
But in my mind, it appears as if it were lit by candlelight.
In the shotgun of Mom’s car.
Laurels crown me Princess of the Sudan
We drive back home
From seeing my One Good Story on display
And I think Mom wants to put her’s next to mine
But then she says,
“As a parent,
You want your kid to do better than you ever did,”
So, I assume she keeps her One Good Story
Locked up tight in a chest
And wears the key around her neck.
Mom pulls into the First Watch parking lot
And we eat eggs
Sunny side up
But before that,
We fold our hands
And bow our heads
“Komm, Herr Jesu;
sei unser Gast…”
