I find myself missing my mother.
A hole empties where she once created warmth.
The hole becomes particularly cool
and lonely
between six and seven in the evening.
That was the time
I used to call her every day,
every day. Whether I wanted to call or not,
whether I wanted to talk or not.
Whether I had something to say
or not.
Every evening.
Had to be between six & seven,
because her shows started at seven.
Wheel of Fortune, followed by Jeopardy!
Except on weekends,
reserved for Lawrence Welk.
Then one night
I called and I called and I called.
Called three times
and there was no answer.