mother

Road Trip 2020, Day Seven

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there is no escape here.

only evasion.

it’s up this curvy road packed with hill after horse-country hill,

packed with perfect fences and horses whipping their tails,

with cars zooming past, some honking at my hugging-the-shoulder presence as i pedal

pedal

pedal

past these race-won mansions,

these stacked-limestone walls that can’t trap me in or out,

into the sunny, humid heat of midday Kentucky,

so far from home, so far from home,

so near to everything that is hard and easy, up and down these endless hills

in a circle that isn’t a circle.

Coronatine, Day Sixty-eight (Passages)

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she designed this house.

my baby girl, age thirteen.

(she loves her kitties).

she’s my crafty one.

my sweet entrepreneur.

my bright young woman.

and just like her cat

who gives unlimited love,

she will forgive me.

Coronatine, Day Sixty-one

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I went to the grocery store today, and I don’t want to write about the nightmare I had last night where no one was wearing a mask.

Could you imagine, three months ago, having a nightmare about people not wearing masks in Target?

Actually, King Soopers was well-stocked today. Everyone I saw had a mask on. People at 8:30am obeyed the one-way aisle rules, and best of all? I stayed within my budget.

I made a budget for my post-work husband, starting at the beginning of May. $200 a week. It may sound extraordinarily excessive, but we’ve got six mouths to feed, and these are American prices, after all.

But I bought extras today. This bugleweed. A roll of packaging tape. And sushi because fuck Wednesday cooking.

And, my nightmares should end soon.

Because my post-work husband got a job, a non-union, non-seniority-screws-you job, doing exactly what he’s great at and wants to do forever, in the midst of a pandemic.

And.

And you can call it what you want. White privilege. True. Luck. Absolutely. Divine intervention. Maybe.

Or just… fate. The fate that led him through the Air Force to me, that led the boy to our doorstep, that led three beautiful daughters into our home, that led his previous experience to him becoming the best candidate out of all the others being laid off.

Coronatine, day sixty-one. It’s a beautiful image filled with pets, hope, and love.

And I want to hold on to this non-nightmare feeling for as long as I can.

And.

This cat was born to be a model. Good night.

Coronatine, Day Fifty-eight (Mother’s Day)

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we’re stepping outside

into this beautiful yard

to celebrate love

it’s a bit risky

and only sixty degrees.

but it’s Mother’s Day.

each girl made a card

and worked to include this boy

in conversations

it’s as good as weeds

ripped from choking my garden

so beauty can breathe

Coronatine, Day Forty-nine

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until they close this

we might be here every day

(Colorado beach)

humans love water

in all its fake and true forms

(dams, no dams, fresh, salt)

our Friday night lights

makes this feel like our old life

as fresh as sunshine

Coronatine, Day Forty-three

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my perfect birthday,

in my mind, pre-corona,

would never be this

(there might be mountains,

a fondue restaurant, views

not in the background)

but with so much time

and simply nowhere to go

love works its way in

my middle’s painting,

a dress hand sewn by my mom,

hand-dipped strawberries

and saved till tonight

my oldest breaks, repairs me

with this card; her words

my perfect birthday

brought to me by a virus

with two gifts: Time. Love.

Coronatine, Day Thirty-eight

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these organized shelves

ready to be fully stocked

with his last paychecks:

they represent us,

our Coronatine journal,

worry turned to work

work we’re still doing

with tiny pics on small screens

working for our kids

our creative kids

with a cat-house-building night

paw prints, love, and all

“new normal” softens

as we make the best of fate

on day thirty-eight

Coronatine, Day Twenty-three

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masks: the new normal

mine’s hand-sewn by my mother

not bad on a bike

Coronatine, Day Twenty-two

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dough starts the morning

(impossible sourdough)

kneading, needing, rest.

victory garden

burns through this false spring sunshine

as we drill, hammer

my boy is fearless

removing every last leaf

from our high-pitched roof

my girls love salad

work the seeds into the ground

ready, row by row

we plant potatoes

in our newly-built raised bed

(plants will save us, right?)

it angles others

in defiance of the times

(ready to win this)

my baby makes art

a YouTube challenge (with hearts)

and we win this day

just in time for bread

that rises as the sun sets

we are safe. and well.

Coronatine, Day Ten

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here are my children

throwing frisbees in the park

(they’ve never done this)

quarantine, day nine:

presidential rampages,

orders to stay home

just look at my son:

showing pup what he can do

with our family

card and board games win

(break news cycle doom and gloom)

We WILL get through this.