WHAT THIS BOY LISTENS TO

WHAT THIS BOY LISTENS TO for Betty • I stitched up some songs together to help me remember what my mother’s hands looked like. I miss the music she made. I miss the music of her. I miss her fingers inside tin bowls as she mixed ingredients together. I miss that. I miss together. I miss the sound of what she put together. I miss dancing inside the kitchen. I miss the clanging sounds of her winter, her pots and pans. I miss the after-gifts, the red bean soup, her hands over my eyes as she would say, “Open them ………..now!” I miss that. I miss now. I miss dancing.