small town tire delay
gives us reason for lobster
(just a short Maine walk)
two missed turns later
we find winding New Hampshire
ready for ice cream
fixed reservation
at a camp we’ve never seen
top out my Monday
late night text shocker:
best sleeping bag left in Maine
(adventure goes on)
we find our way back
on lobster walks, ice cream runs
till we feel at home
that’s how the road plays:
missed turns, rushed escape attempts
journeys everywhere
focus on beach time
not the lost stakes, the thunder,
the flat tire hell
not the life critique,
lack of lobster, the car bed
(just the grinning sand)
first view of ocean
they never want to go back
to snowy Vermont
they find ways to play
after hours of traffic
self-entertained
yet, there are strict rules
just like back home: perfection
unmatched, unwanted
just let them be kids
romp up to their ears in sand
take pleasure in filth
(if only we could
have homes and hearts like her heart
where they’d build castles)
a moment of risk
on this never ending trip
is what makes this pic
kids brimming with grins
now i sit in silent car
grateful for this time
i watch my uncle
hands in tremors–sixty-five
granddaughter in tow
age recycles us
into all we wanted here–
just a yes, a yes
clay covered bodies
splash across a Vermont beach
wreaking love-havoc
one idea spun
across Colorado wheels
makes their dreams come true
the road’s life. managed.
choices and back seat spaces
(why we bought this car)
“we’re not so different.
i can tell you live for them”
(so worth the long drive)
a morning Maine call
beach memories yet to make
vibrant happiness
this is my road trip:
let the journey be better
than its destiny
the truth spills from mouth
already opened by beer
on a Vermont night
they’ve always wondered
and now they know: love is love
in these small moments
scattered across states
childhood relived, by heart
found in their voices
this is my road trip:
empty chairs, two thousand miles
joy in every game
but life’s a gamble–
Disney or Vermont? choice? please?
i’ll take the shortcut
driving worldwide
to find a cloudless blue sky
to guide my way home
drive starts with best store
candy store within the store
(we all need fill ups)
green mountain state calls
with back roads and endless views
we make our way home:
where we stand in rain
and talk like it’s been three days
(never mind three years)
while the kids recite
the spinning songs of preschool
that spun us this time
reunion’s beauty
claws at my throat, my heart.
rain can’t renew it
this trip from my dreams:
three years, three thousand miles–
six hearts in one
hanging out at home
girls play, sleep, we do yoga
easy transition
tomorrow? the drive
hubby’s new job starts at home
(i’ll make my way home)
upstate New York home
in the arms of my best friend
childhood relived
driving my mind home
we leave Kentucky for now
(could have been home)
the road takes us home
on all our travels, faces
where we find our hearts
walk across downtown
with my urban planning mom
walking rating: zilch
veggies are heavy
when carrying Kentucky
weight on both shoulders
redemptive moment
on green lake with blue kayaks
(words he’ll never read)
a campfire end
to a summer daydream trip
(only innocence)
full circle i’ve turned
since five years back, her birth year
(my first niece. cousins)
but he won’t see that.
only weakness bearing down
on our bright union
love like this? just once.
with dark swings on late porches
he can’t even touch
but for her bright eyes
the firelit sunset eve
forgiveness follows.
five girls in the darkmarching their way through puddles
no picture for this
offhanded remark
stings bright as two years ago
women always blamed
we will never win
testosterone dominance
it’s always our fault
does she even know
why sobriety hurts here?
best to stay silent
i chose solo trip
(his absence clings to my soul)
yet–girls are happy
mother’s sacrifice
comes in beer runs and ice cream
(things they’ll never see)
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