For hours we built
houses for fairies—
with fairy beds fashioned
from smooth red sandstone,
pillows made of soft
white daisy petals,
and green blankets
layered with willow leaves.
We crouched by the river
and carved thin moats
around their tiny homes,
used bark for boats
and tiny yellow bits
of sweet clover
to feed the fairy fish.
Sometimes now
when I walk by the river
and see what still exists
of the narrow
red stone paths we paved,
I miss those fairy-bright days.
I didn’t believe in fairies,
not really. But standing
amidst the rubble of their villages,
I see clearly now
what was less visible then,
how the hours spent
building palaces
with weeds, twigs,
rocks and sticks,
were hours rich beyond reason,
the magic so honest
it still lingers
amidst their ruined homes.
Posts Tagged ‘daughter’
When My Daughter Was Small
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged daughter, fairy, imagination, magic, mother, river on July 9, 2024| 14 Comments »
Dairy Queen Drive Thru
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged daughter, father, food, grief, ice cream, memory on July 6, 2024| 19 Comments »
Plain vanilla. Soft serve.
You loved simple things, Dad.
On this day of your birth
I am a pilgrim who arrives
by car at the drive up window
at the closest DQ, an hour away.
There is devotion in the way
I savor the cold. The cake cone
melts on my tongue like a wafer.
There is joy in sampling
what brought you joy.
I ate the whole thing, Dad,
though it was too much.
But I didn’t want to waste
a bit of it. For those few sweet
moments, it tasted like
having you back.
A Closer Look
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged biology, curiosity, daughter, father, lake, science on June 18, 2024| 6 Comments »
I recall how dad gave me glass vials
and encouraged me to go to the lake, take samples,
then bring them back to the house
where he’d taught me to use a glass dropper
to put a small bead between slide and slip,
then focus the microscope
to spy on all the life pulsing there—
thin oblong shapes and zooming dots,
spinning green circles and segmented strands—
it was like eavesdropping on adult conversation,
like being given the key to enter life itself,
and I, an eager traveler into invisible realms,
spent hours staring into that intricate world.
Memory is, sometimes, a chance to meet
a drop of the past, then wonder about the world
beyond what we first see. I thought this
was a memory about lake water, glass slides,
a microscope. I look closer. I see trust.
Pulsing love. A father teaching curiosity.
The Choosing
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged authenticity, connection, daughter, grief, happiness, intimacy, love, mother, vulnerability on May 25, 2024| 10 Comments »
Perhaps I no longer believe in happiness
as the goal. Not that I am against happiness,
but being in this very uncomfortable moment
with little light and a vicious chill, my arms wrapped
around my growing girl, both our hearts breaking
from sorrow and fear, both of us too well aware
of what can be lost, well, I would not trade this moment
for any wide-grinned hour of beach and sun,
wouldn’t rather be anywhere else with anyone—
I would choose again and again to be here
on the dark sidewalk with my girl in my arms,
our hearts so raw, the space between us so warm.
I Live for This Moment
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged daughter, love, microcosm, mother, mother's day on May 12, 2024| 8 Comments »
when my daughter stumbles
sleepy-eyed from her room
and no matter what I’m doing,
I stop and move to the corner
of the couch so she can settle
her whole weight on me.
Maybe we speak of dreams.
Maybe we converse with the cat.
Maybe we plan the day.
Maybe we say nothing at all.
All that matters is that
she is close and I nuzzle my face
into her hair and wrap an arm
around her chest and know
this is the beginning of everything,
the seed, the cosmic swirl,
the headline that’s never written.
To foster one moment of trust
and love is to belong
to a crucial revolution.
It matters, how we hold each other.
What happens everywhere
starts right here.
Legacy
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged daughter, love, mom, mother's day on May 11, 2024| 10 Comments »
Far away my mother
reaches across the bed
for my father’s hand
that isn’t there. Still,
she says, she almost
feels it, just as I almost,
even now, feel her hand
rubbing the gentle pad
of her thumb across
my own thumbnail.
Perhaps someday
when I am gone,
my daughter, too,
will almost feel a whisper
of a kiss on her brow
that reminds her how
I kiss her tonight,
as always, with my lips
pressed to that place
just above her eyes
as I murmur that I love her.
Perhaps it will surprise
her how real it still feels,
the words no longer audible,
but I hope by then
she will know them by heart.
Ready for It
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged daughter, mother, music, play, Taylor Swift, walking on May 1, 2024| 7 Comments »
“Mom, what’s the title of this song,”
she asks me. I listen to the lyrics
for cues. Luckily, Taylor Swift starts to croon
in her mezzo voice, part velvet, part thorn,
“You’re on Your Own Kid.” And I shout
out the title. Vivian smirks,
knowing I was rescued by the song.
“Album?” she says. “Red?” I guess.
“Wrong,” she says. “Evermore?”
I guess. “Wrong.” “Midnights?” “Yes.”
She nods in mock exasperation
it took me so long.
She loves it when I get it wrong
in her endless quiz of popular songs.
She loves that she can teach me.
I love it, too, that she shares with me
these lyrics that grow her, shape her.
We walk along the river trail,
one white air pod in her ear,
one white air pod in mine
and the river braids by and the next song
begins to play. “Title?” she asks,
and I listen for clues until Taylor
demands in a gravelly rush
“Are You Ready for It?” And I look
at my daughter, just fifteen
and becoming so wholly herself.
As much as I want to stop
in this moment with her hand brushing mine
and the musky scent of river
and sunshine warm on our skin
and I think yeah, I’m ready for it,
though it brings me to tears, yes I am.
When My Mother Makes Me Tea
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged daughter, intention, kindness, love, mother, tea on April 30, 2024| 3 Comments »
It is kindness that moves her hand
to flip the switch on the hot pot,
and somehow a movement
that’s merely a flick is transformed
into an act of great love. It is kindness
that helps her choose the mug
she thinks I’d like the most—
not too small, not too big,
not too clunky. Perhaps the one
with pansies. Perhaps the one
that was dad’s. There is kindness
in the way she unwraps the tea bag,
my favorite earl gray, the bergamot
floral and strong. Kindness in the way
she pours in the soy milk,
the kind I like best, organic,
unsweetened, something she would
never drink herself but will always
have on hand for me. And so when
I wake in her bed and she tells me,
I’ve made you a cup of tea,
I know she is also saying
you are so precious to me.
I taste it in every sip, how warm it is,
how generous, the black tea so bright,
the milk so creamy, so smooth.
even with no sugar, so sweet.
For Easter
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged daughter, dawn, easter, eggs, happiness, joy on March 31, 2024| 4 Comments »
We drop six small,
bright-colored tabs
into six glass cups.
Add vinegar. Water.
And my girl and I
make plaid eggs
and striped eggs
and eggs painted
with feathery strokes.
We sing along to country
songs, and joy colors me
like dawn colors sky,
a beauty so fleeting,
but while it lasts,
it lights the whole world.
If It Were in a Book, I’d Write Praise All Over the Margins
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged daughter, falling in love with the world as it is, ordinary, sick, treasure on March 28, 2024| 14 Comments »
No day but this day
with its sloppy snow
and the rabbits living
beneath the porch and
the single easter lily
that opened this afternoon,
its too-sweet perfume spilling
all over my thoughts
as I made my daughter
a warm homemade syrup
of lemon and cherry
and honey for her cough
before I snuggled into
her rumpled bed and put
my cheek to her fevered head,
no holier place in all the world
except every other place
where life is honest
and love has dared—
and how is it sometimes
we can be so aware
that every little thing,
from the cold breeze
coming through the open window
to the cat hair that seems
to be everywhere, yes
every single little thing
is treasure.