Solitaire 2

“What do you want me to do?”

I heard these words from my mother

when, as a teenager,  I had driven her to distraction

which was, of course, my goal.

I always had an aha moment afterwards

as if I had broken her.

And I heard them again two years ago

as she lay dying and then I knew

she was broken again and I also knew

she had not been talking to me.

I’ve become aware of something else:

I am more like my mother than I thought.

I was my daddy’s little girl:

busy one hundred percent--

learning to shoot a bow and arrow,

learning to swim or fish,

learning to use a hammer and nail

and following him everywhere.

“What do you want me to do?”

My mother used to play solitaire

a lot of solitaire, peeling and stacking cards

by threes, in piles of thirteen.

I thought nothing of it.

She loved playing cards, especially bridge.

A hobby, a way to pass time.

And now, I pay solitaire

on my cell phone

between times like my mother.

Aha, the distraction, the escape.

And now I find myself saying,

“What do you want me to do?”