One night before bed, i ask Noah,
"Have you read, just like your teacher said?"
"no, mom, i didn't. i don't like to anymore."
i gasp under my breath, almost fall to the floor.
not acceptable! the thought- then my voice:
Noah, you must finish the books you start to read
or the habit will get out of control completely
you must remember how it important it is
to finish what you start, you must finish what you start...
i say with my kind of kind and kind of annoyed voice,
there is no choice!
for heaven's sake, you need to read! Be disciplined and follow through indeed!
You need to do this. You need to do that.
You need... to do just what i ask!
our "Goodnight" said after that
i walk out of his room
instantly hit with mom-guilt-attack.
as Noah slips into the land of nod
i'm struck over the head with a lightning rod:
a shot of truth...
the lecture was so premature,
laced with fear
rather than something pure
i try to mold his sacred being
into what i think he needs to be
when the lecture
needs to be- to me.
i half finish things so chronically.
i start them you see-
i want to get smart,
take the books right to my heart
but ambitions too big for my brain or eyes
i don't take a dang book one page at a time,
i set 5 out to read...
then stay online.
the very thing i berate Noah for
is the very thing I've done for 30 years more
than i care to confess,
but now did-
SO...I'm now reading
Ali, don't tell.