Memory Story
She Asked the Score
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Mom asked what a first down was, then asked again.
Then she asked the score like it had always been hers.
I made too much dip. She made the good plates come out anyway.
The living room became a stadium for two.
She yelled at a referee she couldn't name.
I didn't correct her. I handed her a napkin.
At halftime she told me about the year Dad painted the porch red.
Football paused. We didn't.
When we scored she stood up like church.
I stood up with her.
After the win she asked when the next one was.
I said next year. She said, "Put it on the calendar."
Moments
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