By Lesley Vlietstra

When I was young
my mother bought me
a chemistry set.
What I remember
is not the crystals
nor the compounds,
of which there were few,
but the microscope.
It made things larger
and as I gazed at drops of blood
and insect wings
I dreamt of understanding “why” 
 and “how” and one day
of knowing all there is to know
of such things.
I think my mother
when she bought it
dreamt of having a daughter
who, by knowing these things,
could make both our lives
a little larger.
Looking back, I know
that dreams need more than hope.
My motherʼs disappointment
is a memory as clear and sharp
as anything I saw
beneath the microscope.