December 4, 2020: To Mom with Love and Missing

Today you would have turned ninety-nine.
I often wonder what you were like
When you were, say, twenty-three.
Did you go through the same unrest as me,
Desire for roots, for a place like a tree
Of your own?

When you still had, say, fifty years
Ahead of you, did life seem endless?
When did you begin to discard the joy,
The fertile rebellion, the mindless-
Ness of youth?
When you were twenty-three,
Did you think you glimpsed the truth?

Did you think you had experienced much,
Before experience finally etched lines
On your face? Perhaps you tried to freeze
Each moment, wanting the meaning of time
To stay steady.
When you were twenty-three
Did you often feel not ready?

I wonder, too, if you fought against
The cares of growing older. Did you sometimes need
To be small again, as I do, to be cherished
Like a child? When did you put your youth, that seed,
Up on a shelf?
When you were twenty-three,
Did you love yourself?