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She forgot to tell us

Lynne Thompson
1 min readJun 14, 2022


My mom. She forgot to tell me that the days are long, but

the years short. That I shouldn’t shy away from having my photo taken,

because then when I left the earth, my children would not have my smile to look at.

That one she forgot to tell herself.

There are things she remembered. To take a moment and treasure a small white wild flower, or the pink-purple of the sunset, or her tiger-striped cat purring on her lap.

She remembered to teach us to choose the right way and do the right thing so that we could sleep at night and be at peace with ourselves.

She supported our dreams, our little hopes and our big plans. She remembered what we liked and what we didn’t.

She cherished us and helped us to grow strong roots so that when she had to fly

We could hold on. And live. She forgot to tell us to live. But we remembered.

We had to. She would have been too sad if we had not laughed again or danced or pushed on. She forgot to tell us, but we remembered. To live.



Lynne Thompson

I always wrote (first poem at 6 years old). Tech writer by trade. I have a podcast The Storied Human: see my linktree — https://linktr.ee/StoriedHuman