Written in Boston, May 21, 2006，Published by All Dimensions Press™ on March 19, 2026.
At once it’s lunchtime again,
Mother calls right on the dot.
“Food is here, all set and warm,
Same old spot—don’t miss the lot.”
Down the elevator I fly,
To a small table inside.
Mother smiles when I arrive,
Raindrops still on hair that’s tied.
“Sending food in pouring rain!”
I complain with tender care.
Mother just wipes her brow and laughs,
“Walking counts as self-care.”
“Here’s the soup I slowly stewed,
There’s the bass your father made.
Working hard for those ‘big bosses,’
You can’t live on the same old stuff.”
I dig in with both my hands,
Feasting fast without a pause.
Mother watches, eyes so full,
Every bite draws out her thoughts.
“Watch the fish bones, now eat slowly,
Even cats aren’t this obsessed.”
Then the phone rings loud and bright,
Father checks in, mildly stressed:
“Is the fish a little overcooked?
Is the soup too salty or bland?”
Years have passed in foreign lands,
Filial ties—hard to balance.
Yet with both my parents here,
Childhood’s moon feels close, and clear.
About the Author
Lara Lee is a writer and the founder and editor-in-chief of All Dimensions Press.
Alongside her writing, she works in the financial industry and lives in Massachusetts, United States.
© Lara Lee 2026 Copyright
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Article Information
Category: Non Fiction / Poetry
Tags: Moments in life / Parents / United States