Wednesday, March 8, 2017

olive turns 3. 3.1.2017

[this is a few days late, but i don't want to forget your tini-ness, the way you are, now that you've turned three. my sweet olive anandi, how i adore you and want to smoosh myself against your cheekies. you make me want to talk like a child, full of delight and wonder,  how vibrant you are. you are all sorts of shades of spring. that deep reddish pink, streaked against a blue sky, you are alive and cheerful and always remind me of new life. you are the green stem of a brand new tulip, you are growing at a rapid pace, absorbing, learning, mimicking. there are soft pastels of you too, shy lavender, you won't always talk to friendly strangers, but you'll at least offer eye contact. maybe even a hidden smile. you are the brightest red, laughter. you giggle and throw your body all over the place, you love the feel of your dad's back, or the spot nestled closest to me. oh how i love you. happy birthday my baby bird. you are three. you said goodbye to your nigh-night, it was hard and it still is, but you tell me with trembling lips and determined eyes, "mama i am very brave. i am a big girl." yes, yes you are my little love.] 








meet you there at 5.

talking over 
street tacos, 
multi colored salsas 
and freshly squeezed limes
scattered between us. 
i listen 
as she shares
her skin bronzed
her soft blonde locks
thrown effortlessly 
into a pony
she is so beautiful, 
i think to myself. 
and she listens too,
patient and quiet 
as i ramble on and on 
about my weight 
and how i am trying 
to eat more carrots
because my pant size 
has gotten out of control.
i like our cadence. 
we are like an 
old married couple
we've grown to understand 
each other 
the way our teeth chatter
the way we sit in pauses
she can read my 
body language 
like a book
and i can hear the 
subtle tones 
of her voice
like a perfectly 
memorized song. 
sometimes i like to 
buck against 
the idea
that someone 
knows me so well
i want to remain a mystery 
after all..
but more and more 
i find it to be a peaceful
 resting place 
to be known and loved 
in weakness, in sorrow, 
in brokenness, 
[we all hold these things, do we not]
and also in rejoicing, 
laughter, 
and surprises. 
like how she surprises me with kind words
that i didn't even know 
i needed to hear..
after tacos, 
we head to class.
afterwards she lets me sit in her car
and use her phone charger
because my phone is dead
and i need to use google maps 
to find somewhere that 
i've never been. 
and i think with a smile,
this is what we've come to.
this is what 
best friends
do.   

thanks for not 
being 
used to me
even
after all these 
years. 

Sunday, March 5, 2017

ach. the sound affect.

i've always kept my eye on you, 
just watching,
maybe just hoping 
even an ounce of 
humility 
will reveal itself in you..
[i like to think humility is this 
beautiful invisible cloak
that sways on some people, 
you know what i mean?]
and here you were again today,
your shirt pressed
your hair gelled and shaped
closely against your ears.
i watch your eyes, 
they look quite assured. 
your walk. 
also assured. 
you walk past the crusty late 
pile of us 
who are shoved 
haphazardly 
in the silver bleaches in 
the back.
i rather like it 
back here.
a lowly place to be, 
[we are all ashamed and embarrassed 
at our tardiness.]
if you ask me. 
and i keep watching
as you retrace your steps
and walk past us again-
i think to myself-
where is he going?
where does he need to be?
[and one might suggest 
he was looking 
for an open seat. 
there were plenty
for the taking, 
i assure you]
and those eyes of yours 
i watch as they dart 
to the left to the right
in expectation
you are looking to be seen 
to be noticed 
you walk past two more times
your gait strong, confident,
slow and purposeful.
i want to look away at such arrogance
but i can't help but 
weakly watch. 
you finally find a seat, 
riiiiight in the front.
of course 
you would. 
do you want to be near me 
or do you not want to be near me
am i too much 
or not enough to bother with 
have i displeased you 
have i angered you 
is it me 
or does your 
own heart have 
something 
to do 
with this brokenness between us
i long to be reconciled 
to you.

-questions i ask silently of her 
for i do not know how to 
form them aloud