I try to make Marla believe she is a good mother,
was,
but I’ve no way of knowing how she
treated Donal and Mary thirty years ago
or why Donal seems so angry.
I trust she was gentle and fun,
the Marla now living.
And if she wasn’t, maybe that’s OK too –
maybe fewer memories means
she can be kinder,
forgetting what made her bad.
Unlike most of us
she lives in each day,
not stuck in dreaming or worry.
So maybe Dad could mellow
if he got ill like her,
remembering only the good stuff
we had,
the times I made him happy,
and forgetting all the ugly details of our past,
his past,
the reasons for his rage.