“Low maintenance” is how my kids describe
me now they’re grown and I’m at times their guest.
When they were young I fed them diatribe
and anecdote, but both of them have stressed
I wasn’t harsh or selfish. So I told
my brother I outgrew demanding ways,
but he maintains I wasn’t hard to hold
or hear at home. My mirror starts to craze.

I guess I was a trial for the men
who married me. Our linkage didn’t bloom,
because I was unheard and grumpy then?
(I realize now I needed my own room).
At 68, it hits me like a bomb:
I bought a careless label from my mom.