by Lisa Reily
she didn’t know that her family was only held together
by an old plastic Christmas tree,
her mother’s pierogies,
and homemade lemon cheesecake.
she had always planned to make her mother’s food,
but only ever watched her cook;
now her hands were lost without a recipe.
she didn’t know her father had never understood
why her mother had left him, even though he’d been married
to another woman for twenty years;
that her mother would leave her a lock of his hair in a box,
to return to him, along with the card he first wrote her,
which said I would die without you;
that her father would visit the house alone,
to sweep leaves from the driveway.
she didn’t know her brother would destroy the garden
looking for money in her mother’s strawberry patch,
when their mother had told her she’d buried it under the cactus
a long time ago;
that she’d have to hide their mother’s Serapax,
because her brother would sleep on the floor,
across their mother’s doorway,
so she could not give them to her;
that she’d whisper to her mother that she had them,
and give them to her, secretly.
she didn’t know she’d be the one
to search for the will while her mother was dying,
because she was pressured to do it;
that she wouldn’t care about the will
as she rummaged through her mother’s things.
and when her mother was gone
she didn’t know her father would move in,
into her mother’s house, with his wife,
spread his life throughout as if he’d never left,
leaving only her mother’s room untouched;
she did not expect the relief
of not fighting with her, ever again,
that she’d miss her strawberries,
that pierogi recipes were all over the internet.
she didn’t know that life would go on and on after her,
that she would never hear her mother’s voice,
that she’d pick up the phone, to call her,
that stories about families and wills were true,
and she’d never see them again;
that her mother’s dog would crawl under the sheets,
to sleep at her feet,
and she would miss her mother like never before.
Lisa Reily is a former literacy consultant, dance director and teacher from Australia. Her poetry has been published in several journals, such as Amaryllis, London Grip, The High Window, Panoplyzine, and The Fenland Reed. You can find her at lisareily.wordpress.com.
A powerful poem