My mother loved me. But she also had strong opinions about who I was 

and who and what I should become, as I aged.

 

She didn’t keep her thoughts to herself, and let me know, at every turn 

in my life, that I was . . .

 

 

One Of A Kind

 

Early in life, when my first steps led to my falling on my face,

     my mother would say, “You’re one of a kind.”

Not being old enough to understand what she meant by this,

     I didn’t mind.

 

When I uttered my first words, garbling my thoughts,

     my mother would say, “You’re one of a kind.”

Thinking she was just answering me back,

     no problem with her comment did I find.

 

When I began school and messed up in class,

     my mother would say, “You’re one of a kind.”

With teacher’s note in hand and head bent down,

     “I am only a child, Mom,” her I would remind.

 

Then I started playing baseball and struck out three times,

     and you know what Mom said? “You’re one of a kind.”

I’d look her straight in the eye and say, “This was my first time playing

     the game, and sometimes the ball is hard to find.”

 

Then, in elementary school, I had a physical exam, including testing

     my eyes, and Mom took one look at the results and said, in a loud voice,

     “You’re one of a kind.”

For now she had the reason why I wore one sock of red and another 

     of green, as the test results showed I was colorblind.

 

In high school, I received a ninety-seven on an English exam.

     Mom scanned the paper for the absent three points and said,

     “You’re one of a kind.”

Not being a belligerent teen, under my breath I muttered,

     “But this is an ‘A,’ are you that blind?”

 

When I received my Master’s Degree in Psychology, “My son the doctor,”

     Mom was not able to say, and once again, she stated, “You’re one of a kind.”

But I was proud of being a teacher, a classroom architect, and one

     who might change the plight of humankind.

 

A Ph.D. in Psychology I soon received, and Mom now called me "Doctor,"

     but not by name. And yes she said, “You’re one of a kind.”

It appeared that I had made it in her eyes,

     and now, important and genteel, I had left others behind.

 

Unsuccessful in marriage twice in my life, Mom’s evaluation was simple,

     “You’re one of a kind.”

Successful in marriage three, I believed it was my doing,

     but Mom insisted it was her teachings and she was the mastermind.

 

The years passed and Mom’s mind slowed, but, with each happening

     in my life, she was quick to state, “You’re one of a kind.”

She passed away almost eleven years ago, and her words still are etched           

     in my mind.

 

As a retiree, having learned from life’s adventures,

     I am making my way toward becoming the man I always tried to find.

And now, the realization of Mom’s words are embedded in my brain,

     for I am, indeed, “one of a kind.”

 

 

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