daughters

April Daughters

/ lovizmytrio / 1 Comment

Isabella

with your Easter dress
and worn-out sneakers,
you carry yourself up the mountain
running so far in front
that you become a black crow
hidden among the scrub oaks,
waiting at the top on the bench
to announce to us all
the view that has brought us here,
proud of your strong legs,
your interminable energy,
your love for the outdoors.

Mythili

sitting at the middle school musical,
finger in mouth,
blankey in palm,
you turn to me and whisper,
“Is this the last song?” (your
ever polite mode of complaint)
and as we walk down the steps to leave,
I ask you how you enjoyed it.
Your reply: “That was SO long.”
(your ever polite mode of complaint)
We get to the car and you are asleep
before I have pulled away from the parking lot.

Riona

what you need
includes a simple list:
water
a wet rag to wipe your own face
getting pushed on the swing
(at least once a day)
cuddling on the couch
stories that have flaps
(or look-and-finds)
bread (so good that
it will keep you from
eating your dinner)
someone to open the white door
(you have figured out the screen door)
and
three blankets every night
(all made especially for you, my love).

A Perfect Sunday

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

a muddy trail, a lightweight stroller,
three girls in dresses too pretty for a hike,
the Colorado blue sky peeking out
through wisps of cottonball clouds
and views of red rocks in the forefront,
the perfect center stage to
the distant snowcapped beauties
that draw everyone to this state,
a stop for ice cream on the way home,
grilling burgers and hot dogs
for our first outdoor bugfree patio
dinner of the season,
and we have ourselves
a perfect Sunday.

What I Learned Today

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

One: squirrels are suicidal
dashing in front of tires in a race
that didn’t exist before
they saw me coming

Two: canals are the best
places to ride a bike along
(flat and meandering,
tree filled and peaceful)

Three: once again, fresh
homemade ice cream from
Bonnie Brae upholds its
“beautiful hill” standard.

Four: my girls are fish, in
and out of the water no
holds barred, ready for summer,
ready for anything.

Five: two hundred joggers in
Wash Park may look like a race to them,
but it’s just another Saturday in
Denver, just what my girls should see.

Six: the liquor store is also
known as the “licorice store”
because they have wine for us and
lollipops for them: a treat for all.

Seven: playing outside with
the neighbor kids is just as magical
for this generation as it was for mine,
just as free, and just the way to end the day.

In This Moment

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

in this moment

I can find the pace I need to get me there stronger
Mythili can “read” a whole page in her elaborate story
Riona can say “I wuv you” seven times
Isabella can brush her top teeth by herself

and someone on the other side of the world
or right across town
is giving birth to a perfectly healthy baby
while another lost soul is pointing a gun to his head

in this moment

I can hear Alanis Morisette motivating my pedals
my students can see twenty pictures on Google
of the cedar trees they’ve never heard of
the teachers can track me down for brownies

and someone right across town
or on the other side of the world
is pounding a woman’s skull into the drywall,
while another is handing a ten-year-old his first pair of shoes.

in this moment

I will live
I will love
I will remember what I have
what we all have
(somewhere within us)

Baby Number One

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

standing next to my bike
(baby number one)
just before sunrise
I adjust the straps on the saddlebag
and ask myself why I
didn’t pack gloves

the door clicks open
swings shut
forcing my heart rate to
race as if I’ve already begun
the uphill ride

my breath spills out
in gray wisps of
below freezing air as
I take a step around the corner
to see what has materialized

there she stands
barefoot in
her polar bear purple pajamas
her fuzzy morning braids
dangling on either side of her
grinning face, her arms out

“I came to say good-bye.”
I reach for my should-be-asleep
daughter, wrapping my warmth
around her shivering skin,
my always-a-morning-person girl,
my baby number one.

Invalids

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

we are a pair of invalids,
her with a bright red eye under a bag of tea,
me with swollen ankle under a bag of ice,
sharing our stories of sickness,
her version vibrant and missing-school excited,
mine grumpy and old just like me,
both of us waiting till the timer beeps,
the medicine comes off,
and we are ready to heal.

My Own Middle Place

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

Please tell me why
when I read books like The Middle Place
I think of you and want to scream,
to relive my childhood:
I want a do-over

I don’t want the rants and raves
the banging on doors
the sharks in your eyes
swimming at me with their
hatchets of hatred

I want a mother who could cuddle
with me on the couch,
read me stories while I curl up,
thumb in mouth,
and before the sun even sets
share a moment of joy with me

not one who’s so obsessed
with the food that has to
go on the table that she
trades her smiles for sour looks
before even closing the door at work

Please tell me why I can’t have
that imaginary childhood,
why I cannot gratify my memories
with some sort of happiness
that will last beyond
the closing of this book,

a place where I am comforted,
I am safe,
a place where I know my mother
loves me,
a place where she has shed her tiger’s skin
and wrapped her arms
around my aching soul.

Every Moment

/ lovizmytrio / 2 Comments

I remember nights without sleep
and cries without consolation
diaper bags and strollers a must
for even the simplest outings

now their once-wispy hair is
tied back in tight braids and
their cries are aimed at each other
with bitter words to match.

a blur it’s been, baby years gone,
relinquished first to toddlerhood
and now we’re full-on childhood
their lives zipping by me

before I can even sit on the swing
with their daddy and reminisce
the time that is happening now,
they will be all grown up.

(I will remember this when I
hold my hand to a feverish forehead,
when they pitch a fit and act their age,
when I think every moment is too much)
because every. moment. counts.

Adrenaline

/ lovizmytrio / 1 Comment

it’s amazing how the smallest thing
can pump a mother’s adrenaline—
a scream, a weak call, a fever
(not my own, but the listless look
of a sick child)

it rushes in, takes control
of my body until it transforms
to hand-jittering fear.
the moment passes
but as long as I’m a mother
the adrenaline will be there
hiding like fog on my soul,
waiting for its next chance
to smother me as I reach
to protect her.

Ten Haikus for 2010

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

Only in Denver
do we enjoy seventy
degrees and then snow.

Running eight hot miles
is easier than having
to say no to you.

Watching Grease again
I wonder if I’m being
their very best mom.

Screaming loud children
are like daffodils: better
when the sun is out.

Two dark chocolate cakes,
one happy hour, zero
days of school: perfect.

Parents who dislike
teachers should home-school their kids
and stop degrading.

Girls wearing dresses
are rainbows shining brightly
after the downpour.

Family is a gift
and also a sacrifice
that makes us complete.

Television steals
moments that we should share to
make the world better.

Spring is a wild breeze
that ushers out winter’s cold
and blows in summer.