Calling Mom

Had the strangest impulse yesterday--
a want, no more, a need:
I had to call Mom.
HAVE TO CALL Mom.

But I can't. She's
been gone twenty years
and since yesterday.
And yet, out of the blue
I had to call Mom.

No specific reason why,
nothing had happened good or bad.
I had no reason to feel the way
I do. The holidays, perhaps?
I played her favorite Christmas song
on repeat. Want to call Mom.

Company coming tomorrow.
Cleaning, wrapping presents--
getting ready. 'Don't forget
to call mom,' reverberates.
'I can't,' I answer in a huff.
'I want to,' I yell at the ceiling.
'I would, if I could, call Mom.'

"I miss you. I love you,'
I say under my breath.
And the urgency diminishes.
I feel lighter. Wish I could hear
her respond in kind. And yet,
I feel warmer as if I were hugged.
I suppose I no longer need a phone.
Mom still seems to hear when I call 'Mom!'