a busted-lip morn
as i mourn this stage of life:
dry. unforgiving.
one day at a time
I’ll win back my little one
(no longer little)
a soft Saturday
to soften life’s hard edges
with kindness and calm
my life in a meal:
always trying for the pic
always missing it
my kitty comfort
is no comfort on this day
(day of infamy)
another failed day
ends with a quiet snow walk
(just let those flakes fall)
motherhood snippets:
a brilliant purple houseplant
captured in glory
molé for the win?
another failed recipe
to exhaust my soul
oh, but the chocolate
hidden behind the bright beads
of sesame seeds
her anxiety
so present, prescient, painful
and i cannot win
hidden behind mask
is my sixteen-year-old girl
(her pandemic grin)
i hope to win her
with walks, drives, conversations
just like the old days
sometimes the sunrise
is the best part of the day
(before darkness falls)
One of my students just called me and in his very broken English told me I upset him in class today because I wasn’t on screen the whole time. He was in tears and his father yelled at him. Why wasn’t I on screen the whole time?
Because I was walking around my classroom trying to check in on the twelve kids who showed up today. Because I was trying to get two kids who have done zero work because of their utter terror of technology finally logged into our textbook.
Because I was making a tiny bit of progress with two kids, and breaking another.
Because it’s 2020 and I don’t know how to teach anymore. 💔
But I wore this mask and put up the new background fireworks to celebrate a candidate who literally has the power to change or save their lives and their families’ lives, and I smiled.
So why am I crying now?
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