Change
Number eight sleeps in my arms.
My father watches from the mantel, his hat ajar.
Her mother’s frame, her daddy’s looks.
She’s English, French, Ute; it matters not.
Who will she make a difference for?
Eighth grade is where it stopped for my great-grandmother,
Had a mother she needed to support.
Worked in the factory making as much as a man.
Her daughter did finish high school.
She made a difference.
My grandmother was told she should go to college,
Her father just didn’t understand.
Options were to marry God, or a man.
Three daughters have college degrees.
She made a difference.
My mother entered the female evolution.
The freedom to leave the house behind.
Worked forty hours, plus school all weekend long.
Her and many more opened the doors for more options.
She made a difference.
I swallowed my pride and asked for help.
So, the children and I could find harmony.
I studied for finals while I cheered them on.
First male to graduate college in a hundred years – my son.
I made a difference.
My daughter married her love in college,
Two children by her side, a textbook
on her lap.
Breast feeding, homework and laundry piled high.
She has a strong sense of self and a drive to succeed.
She is making a difference.
Her daughter sleeps in my arms.
My father’s cowlick, passes on.
Her mother’s frame, her daddy’s looks.
She’s Scottish, French, Abenaki; it matters not.
She will make a difference.