It feels like a carnival game – Spin the Lucky Wheel – when I drop a search word in among the vast collection of Mom’s poetry.

Sure enough, it being Tax Day, there’s a poem including the word taxes.

Written in 1972, “Pilgrimage” reflects Mom’s thoughts about living close to her hometown of New Haven again, where there were relatives a-plenty.

She loved them all dearly, but sometimes in her childhood years, she felt crowded.

Pilgrimage

Myself, who couldn’t tolerate the thought
of coming back to slump in the old chairs,
of hearing sorry voices whine of youth and taxes,
seeing no child until I left, losing no lovers
to the darkened yards, finding no flowers
on the table (only sad ones by the statues),
returns – and gladly even, because of smiles
on the old faces and glasses that are only used
for me and ancient dogs that stiffly rise,
wagging their tails and falling into sleep
as do my people even as we talk.

~ Joan Vayo ~ February 21, 1972

The Writer’s Digest awarded Mom for “Pilgrimage” in its 1972 poetry contest.

Eighteen months later, we packed up and moved to Indiana for four years. Looking back, it was a blessing, as in-state college tuition helped tremendously that one year when the three older children were at Indiana University.

When my parents moved back to Connecticut and later decided to stay in the Nutmeg State for retirement, Mom had come full circle. She joined with her sister, Bunny, and other cousins in planning family reunions to celebrate the stories of generations past and present.

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“Pilgrimage” ©1972 Joan Vayo. All rights reserved.

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