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
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
a morning discourse
to get me through the last day.
she gives in. i win.
when one of her five
desires the same gender
will she change her mind?
families surround us:
single, married, divorced, set–
love makes children grow
not biology.
(we’ve been friends forever now.
we have climbed mountains).
valleys take their turn.
she will judge, blame, point fingers.
i will love, love, love.
one cutting remark
makes me long for real friends
why did they all leave?
yes, it’s in the blog.
everything you can’t recall.
that i’ve recorded.
that is what it’s for.
hard drive with screen. ready. use.
measure me my life.
they’ll come. and they’ll go.
but you and i? together
peanut butter, fluff.
my breakfast today:
on soft wheat bread that you bought
with our love dollar
forgetting our friends
is like helping enemies
win every battle
The campground we paid $57 to reserve was covered in snow. Bruce texted me at 2:52 and said we had to cancel. I thought of six devastated girls and my Jordan National Forest upbringing. “Just drive down 285. Surely there’s something.” He reluctantly agreed to meet me in Buena Vista. At 8pm, we pulled into our non-campground, no-bathroom site and fixed Spanish dinner by 19:30. 😉 The next morning it rained/hailed for 3.5 hours, ending with a frightening lightning storm when I said, “Kids, get in the car! NOW!!” And I blessed the lord to let him drive…. Up the road and into a mud pit. He screamed, cried out, “Our brand new car!! Why did I do that?! Why did we come on this trip?!!” And I opened my door, stepped in 7 inches of mud, and walked 100 yards to a camp full of 4-wheel-drive fanatics who came with their tow line and Jeep Rubicon and pulled all 8 of us, Pilot and all, right out of that pit of hell. And he drove reverse for a quarter mile (something I could never do) and the hail melted and the rain stopped and that’s. What makes a marriage.
i didn’t get a photo
of that bright face looking out from the crowd
of the circle of middle school spur-of-the-moment dancers
jamming to a Middle Eastern tune
with their white black brown faces
and her Latin American dress spinning out from under
a tunnel of happiness
there is no way
no possible way
my phone could have captured
the enraptured joy of that moment
of the confidence instilled back into my
fifth-grade-turned-sour timid child
who has found her place
in the oft-militaristic
ever-loving ever-respectful
intensity of love
that is this school
and when i see those
bright twelve-year-old eyes
shining back at me
because she knows i know
(to pain and back, we’ve been)
it is that moment of parenthood
that reminder of why we are parents
why we bring them into this world
and spend our Saturday nights inside a school
eating foods from around the world
listening to the intricate threads that sew together our humanity
why we love
why we live
why we still hope
for a better tomorrow
on your first Mother’s Day,
you will sit under the sun.
rain clouds won’t creep in
to cover the sky with gray.
puffy white balls of cotton
will sprinkle the blue
with heavenly sparkles tinged
with the gold from your heart.
on your first Mother’s Day,
you will hold your womb close
and your memories closer
(let them fly, those clouds)
you will drink iced tea
on a deck that shines
like a knight in armor,
ready to face the fight.
on your first Mother’s Day,
you will tip your glass
to all that could have been
and all that will be… soon
you will face the heavenly blue,
your eyes clear with sun
dipped in heavenly gold.
you will remember… and forgive
on your first Mother’s Day,
you will have the hope that holds,
the heavenly hope that makes us see
how blue-sky-sunny our dreams can be.
today’s simple gift:
a colleague’s clock to time class
(every minute counts)
my return to him:
how to create hyperlinks
(every slide show counts)
why co-teaching wins:
ideas are best when shared
(every good one counts)
