But I always called her Ma'am

But I always called her Ma'am

I remember  like it was yesterday
the first time I met her
I was being punished  for running away
from the orphanage yet again.
I had used up my warnings and this time
I was going to be caned.
I knew the rules 12 strokes on the bare bottom
applied by matron.
I shrieked in agony begging for mercy
but they were all delivered with full purchase
mercy was in short supply in that place.
That’s when the door opened
she had heard my screams in the corridor.
and I saw her for the first time
so beautiful with clear pale blue eyes
she looked so kind. She walked up to me
what have they done to you? She cried.
Put on your pants young man she said.
I did not know how to address a nun
so I called her Ma'am.
She did not seem to mind.
I sobbed I can't ma'am I am too sore.
She hugged me as I sobbed
holding my head to her breast.
Even through her habit
 I could feel her softness
like that of the mother
I never knew or held.
The tears flowed and flowed
not just from the pain and shame
of my beating.
But from all the abandonment,
loss, pain and sadness
of my young life.
she said softly cry
let it out tears are gods
safety valve purge the pain.
I cried for twenty minutes.
I was a lifer who adopts 14 year old boys
apparently nobody.
She placed ice packs on my caned bottom.
Then she prayed for the saints to bless me.
She met with me every day caring and kindness.
so lovely her face radiant her heart so kind.
She stopped me from running away again.
We Read great books by important authors.
Learned poetry and discussed its meaning.
It occurred to me she was my only friend.
What I did not know
was I was falling in love with her.
In the foggy corridor that joins
boyhood and manhood.
I was lost and confused.
She took me the mission where the
lost and homeless came and we served free food.
I would have followed her to the moon.
I have never met anyone before or since
so pure and beautiful.
She was relocated three years later
to a mission in Africa.  I was desolate.
I begged to go with her.
I even asked her to marry me
she was gentle to my young heart.
if I was single I would marry you in a heartbeat
she said.
But I am already married to my faith.
Showing me her gold ring
i am a bride of Christ.
She died a few years later
her weekly letter stopped coming.
It was a bad case of malaria
but I know that God needed her in heaven
to light up it's dark corners.
Even now after all this time
long passed the college days
I owed to her.
I know her prayer to the Saints
that she said for me was answered.
I met a beautiful lady at college
we are married with two wonderful children.
At last my own family.
On the holidays we all serve food
at the mission.
When we get home on the portrait wall
at the center of all our pictures
is a black and white framed portrait of
a nun with the most beautiful face.
My daughter ask who is the pretty lady. Daddy.
I say its Sister Angelica honey.
But I always called her Ma'am.