Sugar
Returning home to West Virginia and hearing
“Hey Baby”, “Darlin”, “Honey”.
“What can I get you?”
“How you doing?”
From unfamiliar women.
How I miss those sweet terms of affection.
But, Sugar is what gets me.
Every time.
Tips are automatically doubled,
Purchases are made that weren’t intended.
My face goes from grim to grin.
Every time.
I got to thinking.
Sugar. Why sugar?
Then, a vision. An awareness. An image.
My mother died as I turned 3, and
her oldest sister, my Aunt June,
would stop by, pick me up,
turn me upside down,
rough me up, make me laugh.
And call me Sugar.
Every time.
Something I needed, but could not name.
Something I still need.
When grin needs help conquering grim.
When I come home each day.
Every time.
-Greg Clary
Sligo, PA
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