A MYSTERY

"Why are you crying?"
I asked my mother.

"Because President
Roosevelt died.
He was a good man,
and we liked him
very much.
You wouldn't
understand."

She was right,
but I was only
two and a half.

I didn't know
the meaning of
"president,"
or even
the meaning of
"died."

But I knew,
as I meditated
under the
keyboard of
the upright
piano,
that there was
a mystery
there.

11/2/15