Mother's Checking Account

This is one of a collection of poems I wrote for, and about, my mother. She died in 1998 at the age of 89, fully alert, just worn out.

Santa Monica.

Late 1940s.

Mary Martin.

Widow.

Four kids.

Checkout clerk at Piggly Wiggly Market.

Boarding house manager too.

Getting by.

Enough coming in for Ten-Plan Account,

First Bank of California.

No account numbers yet.

Ten checks per month.

Tough but it balanced.

Satisfied.

 

Santa Monica.

Late 1940s.

Mary Martin.

Actress.

Married.

Good income.

Enough and to spare.

Checking account.

First State Bank of California.

No account numbers yet.

Spend all you want.

Not tough at all.

Satisfied.

 

First State Bank statement time.

Mary Martin.

Widow.

$4,000 overdrawn.

Bit upset.

Visited the bank.

Small S.N.A.F.U.

Sorry.

 

Mother's comment.

"Why couldn't they give me one

or two of her deposits too!"

Reviews

[april_moonflower]

As a widow I can relate to this!

(btw thank you so much for all your comments on my poem!)

[Legion]

LOL. Love the ending. To your mom! Cheers.