In Memory of Jessie, my mother

And Who Are You?

“Where is Betty Rae?” she’d say,
Or, “Are you Georgie?”
She so often called me
By either of my sister’s names.

It had little to do with who I was,
For she had mixed us up
Since our early childhood,
And we’d laugh at the confusion.

This was nothing new for Jessie,
Calling out a name, then,
Asking why we had come,
Then asking where the other was.

It was funny then, when we were young,
So how could it be a tragedy
Now that both of us were old,
And she was simply confused--as usual.

Peggy Cartwright, 6/8/09