HARMONY'S LEDGER

Harmony was a friend I left behind in a mall,
Working in a record shop, just beside the Big and Tall
I was attending University in the Land of the Free,
Where missile silos dotted the landscape as often as the trees.
Harmony was my age, but carrying more than her share,
Grand Forks was a small town, big opportunities were rare,
Her father wandered away from the dinner table when she was three,
Leaving a pile of debts and whisky bottles as high as the creditors could see.
Harmony's mom buckled down and worked hard to save the day,
Saving a smile for her growing daughter, sensitive to the pain,
Of working three jobs to combat the absent husband's debt,
While renting out the basement to a quiet man, a nervous Vietnam vet.
Harmony was 16 when she received the call during history class,
Her mom had fallen ill, her gall bladder had to be removed fast,
With no health insurance to soften the blow, there was nowhere to turn,
No helping hand to cover the bills, no angel to arrive and share her concern.
Harmony had to quit school to help pay the bill for her mom's survival,
She got that job in the record shop, each check garnished to ensure mom's revival,
But she never complained or flooded others with tales of sadness and woe,
For her, saving her mom from financial ruin was the only route to follow,
Harmony was still working in that record shop when I finished my degree,
I left to pursue my own goals, in retrospect, a privileged destiny,
Leaving behind a young woman selling records in a Grand Forks mall,
Determined to return the debt she owed to a mother who sacrificed all.
Lawrence Lannoo