my father broke his ankle tobogganing in college
flying down a snow-packed hill
with my mother in front of him
neglecting her job
for one short bump
dropping his foot
as frost glazed her eyelashes

no wonder my mother always worries

there is a picture of them standing on the small porch
of the parsonage in Vassar
he is holding his crutches
my regretful mother leaning against his shoulder
as he is gazes into the future
with the biggest smile in all the world
that’s just how he was
full of curiosity and courage
passion and goofiness

no wonder my mother always worries

Michigan had real winters then
my mom would pull him around campus on a sled
like a pretty little brown-headed reindeer
in her navy worsted-wool coat
sporting a chilly red nose and bobby socks
doing penance for her split-second sin
he would have followed her anywhere
even if she dropped his foot again

no wonder my mother always worries

this December we look at these fading pictures
while outside Lake Michigan rolls into the shore
waves breaking like it’s still summer
my eldest sister arrives from Grand Rapids
we reminisce, reaching for loved ones gone
remembering winter, remembering snow
especially the snow that was there
as the toboggan flew too quickly toward 1945
and my mother dropped my father’s foot

the last time she was worry-free