Princeton, 1972
I went to the Tavern on the Lake early on a wintery Monday night.
The room was surprisingly full of light
with a faint smell of alcohol-libations in the air,
only about 15 or 20 people were there.
A waiter walked by
carrying plates of burgers and piled high with thick-cut French fries.
We planned to hold our writer’s group here
I sat worrying, watching and waiting for my friends to appear.
Stirred up a childhood memory that left an everlasting deep scar —
having to walk my mother home from a nearby bar,
never ready to leave until she drank all her free rounds. Not a waster.
Dewar’s White Label scotch with a coke-chaser.
My heart sunk when I heard my mother say to some guy
‘I don’t want to go home until I’m drunk.’
To this day I regret not asking her why.
Edith McGowan is a member of Delaware Valley Poets and Twin Rivers Writers’ Group. She lives in Princeton Junction.
