new day

as it opens in me around me
its beginning to come into focus
the grand idea of on my own in my own way

shiny marbles in the old rolaids jar
neat stacks of patterned fabric on the wire shelves
workhorse sewing machine ready for me
butterfly ideas flying through me
everything gorgeous fabulous perched on the edge of almost

this month
sketchbook project overflowing with our NYC trip
crazy quilt full of joyous not straight lines
gifting to clear more space in my world
writing to clear more space in my brain

happiness requires action

and courage

momma

she struggles for the next word
and fills in the pauses with that kind of thing
and the bottom line is
i feel nervous and i scramble to think it through
what did she see what did she read
can i connect the broken pieces again
and i wonder if she realizes what is happening

she worries about her dad and her crazy brother
the upcoming election
the upkeep of her yard
and how she is going to paint her ceiling
but the stories are full of holes
vague wandering confusing

and i worry
how can i help her
how do i tell her what i see what i hear how i feel
i want to shelter her protect her
listen through the pauses
patient
calm
fill in the blanks patch the holes in her stories
in her memory

my mothers voice

we visited over lunch
i told stories about my adventures
she laughed and patted my hand
food - movie - food
easy saturday

i tried to read her
and not let the realizations wash over my face
she walked so slow
tired
fragile
nervous

she is worried about bothering me
inconvienencing me
and i am worried about her
she asks the same questions over and over
i calmly respond as if its the first time every time

shadow

we hung the blinds
one after another
mark the window
drill two holes on each side
screw in the brackets
hang the blind
untangle the cords
make sure it works

next

and my sister worked in the kitchen with my mom
ancient cookbook open to the beef strogonoff recipe
my mom read each step
looked at the pan
reminding herself where she was in the process
butter
onions
garlic
brown the meat
salt
paprika
red pepper
my mom panicked when she read next line
one tablespoon tomato paste
she was sure she didnt have any tomato paste
she paused for a minute and pulled a plastic container of blue cheese out of the fridge
offering to use it instead
and my jaw dropped

growing up we had dinner every night as a family
everyone at the table
rotating menu of which beef strogonoff was the star
my mom must have made it more than a thousand times
rote
by sight
by taste
by smell
we knew when her allergies were getting the best of her
the strogonoff was spicy

i like blue cheese she said
and my sister looked at me blankly
we are not going to use blue cheese mom
i do like blue cheese though - it will be fine
and i walked to the pantry and found a small can of tomoato paste on the shelf

patience

careful balance speaking up confidently thoughtfully articulately and dominating the conversation breathe breathe and breathe again

i focus hold my breath for a minute
then bear down with all that i have
willing her willing myself
patch heal recover

small broken down apartment
narrow hallway low ceiling paint peeling off the green front door
she quickly brushed off the wooden table
into a white plastic laundry basket
mixed media pile of tshirts jeans markers plastic tubes of paint books receipts
she talked about how lucky she was to work for the after school program
she had scored all these supplies for free
i curled my toes hard in my shoes
held my tongue and nodded

words poured out of her faster than i could hear
a jumble of we are so sad we will make it together we are best friends
a duststorm of we were so much alike
swallowing me

i walked back to my faded red truck
the smell of american spirit cigarettes caught in my nose
the faint bitter taste of coffee in the back of my throat
my mind spinning with all that she said
sinking heavily into we are the same

i stood on the top step of the porch
nervous as i looked towards the microphone
past the string of lights to the women on the grass
found tables salvaged chairs legs crossed some rocking most smoking
all listening
quiet
waiting
i read from the craft paper scroll i had taken from my wall
i hadnt thought this through
didnt realize how big it was how apart i felt
these words would be out there in the world
they would all know
my voice cracked and my eyes filled with tears
and i could feel myself stepping out of the depth of sameness
toward something more real more authentic

she beamed proudly
my friends clapped surrounded me hugged me
and i knew that was the only time for me
no next time
the end of our shared story

shout from my soul

ideas visions dreams words
float through me around me in front of me
sometimes transient and fleeting
a breeze carrying the sweet scent of cookies baking or smoke from a grill
lovely and savory
short lived and delicious
sometimes they rain down on me possess me
drench me
soak into my skin
all that i can see all that i can smell all that i can taste
overrun me overtake me
fill me up

i shout from my soul into an empty room
and the words fall back down onto me
tangled in my hair
dropped on my shoulders on my lap
caught in the cuff of my jeans
and i carry them with me on me in me
dropping syllables peeling off as I walk through my day
parts of me
parts of my soul