Summary:  Young Hoss Cartwright reflects on the loss of his mother.

Rating: K   WC 550

A Boy’s Lament

How come the sun’s gotta shine today?  Don’t seem right, somehow.  Sky oughta be all cloudy and gray on a day like this.  Not rainin’, though.  There’s enough water bein’ spilt as it is.  I’m tryin’ not to, ‘cause it’ll just set Little Joe off again, but I ain’t as good at it as Adam.  He’s doin’ a fair job of holdin’ it in, but I can tell he’s cryin’ inside.  I ain’t seen much of Pa.  Maybe he’s hidin’ in his room so we won’t see him cry, but he’ll have to come out soon, ‘cause it’s near time to . . . well, to say good-bye, I hear folks callin’ it.

I don’t want to!  I want to run in from school, yellin’, “Howdy, Ma!” and tell you all about my day over a plate of cookies and a glass of milk, like we done every day.  Even when I’d had a rough day, you’d make me feel better.  They was good times, and now it feels like they’re gone forever . . . like you.  Guess I could go through the motions with just Little Joe and me—I will if’n that’s what you want, Ma—but it won’t be the same.  Won’t nothin’ never be the same again.

Hard to think now there was ever a day you wasn’t here.  There was, of course.  There was plenty of days when it was just me and Pa and Adam, but once you came, it was like you’d always been here.  I know I had another mother, once upon a time, but that one always seemed sort of like a lady in the story books that start out that way.  I like hearin’ about her from Pa and Adam, but she don’t seem quite real . . . not like you, Ma.

I knew you, through and through.  I could pick out your laugh in a whole roomful of folks.  I knew the feel of your lap, the shine of your smile.  I’ve heard Pa say you was like springtime in the house, all the year round.  Yeah, you was like that: spring flowers and budding trees and . . . sunshine.

Is that why the sun’s shinin’ today?  Is that you shinin’ down on us, Ma, tryin’ to help us through this sad, gray time?  I’d sure like to think so.  I’d like to think you was close by, watchin’ over us, like you did when we could see you.  Are you there, Ma?

You are, aren’t you?  That breeze that just brushed past me when we stepped out the front door felt like you, droppin’ a kiss on my cheek.  Oh, Ma, it’s still hard, but I ain’t mad about the sunshine no more, now that I know you brung it.  I reckon it’s time now, but I ain’t gonna say good-bye, ‘cause good-bye is forever, and just feelin’ you here tells me, better than any preacher could do, that it ain’t forever.  Someday I’ll feel your arms a-huggin’ me again, so it ain’t good-bye, Ma; it’s just so long for a spell.  I’ll sure miss you, but I’m gonna think of you every time the sun shines, and I’ll help Joe to, too.  Thanks for the sunshine, Ma, every day you was with us . . . and every day to come.