Tag Archives: love

How A Mother Makes Her Morning Cup Of Tea

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As the sun rises orange fire
she walks barefoot to the kitchen
in a simple, summer nightgown
washed by years to softness
a faded brown
spotted with small dots
that for some reason make her smile

She sees the dishes
left in the sink by small hands and large
a cereal bag, half full
resting against the empty box
glasses on the counter
next to an empty milk jug

Their curly-mammoth of dog
trailing her
she opens the porch door
to let him out in the lushness of dewy grass
fills his bowl with food
and opens the window overlooking the garden

She moves about the kitchen
rinses, repackages, tidies, seals, recycles
loads everyone’s dishes in the dishwasher
wipes the counter
and goes to the basement
to the extra fridge to get a carton of skim
notes it is the last one
and writes “Milk” on the grocery list
when she returns to the kitchen
before pouring some into the steamer

As she puts the milk away
she realizes her daughter has used the last of the chai
goes back to the basement in search of more
remembers the laundry is in the dryer from last night
beach towels from the pool
she pulls them from the machine
folds them
and places them in the waiting beach bag on the floor
scoops the rest of the clothes into the laundry basket
and heads upstairs with the tea
“CHAI” is written emphatically on the list

As she sets down the pen
her mind engages in an unbidden inventory
spotting a gap in open-fridge-image in her head
she picks the pen up again
“Cider,” for her son
she smiles

The box of tea finally in hand
finally open
twenty minutes after her insouciant entrance
into the morning light of the kitchen
she pours the dark liquid
into an ordinary cup and puts it in the microwave
adds a splash of heavy cream to the skim in the steamer
pushes the button until it glows red
the white mass begins its swirl

Chai box placed into the fridge
she stands on tiptoes and reaches
pulls her favorite cup down
from where she’s hidden it
placed high on a shelf
tucked inside of a stack of deep bowls
out of her diminutive daughter’s reach

Something she’s set aside
just for herself
an item that holds
adorned with rich, soft color
tiny, raised dots like Braille

Once filled by tea and milk
the feel of the warmed surface against her palm
like a long-awaited caress

An oasis
sometimes as ethereal as a mirage
her moment to sit
and sip alone
with thoughts of nothing less
than sunrise and birdsong

She can’t bear to think of it dropped
one more piece potentially lost
to the demands and confusing chaos of family

In her mothering world of limitless care
and constant nurture
which she embraces and willfully chooses daily
she holds this
unbroken

 

July 3, 2016
Julie Ayers

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finalization

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her foot bounced in time
to the music
as she laid in her stroller
earlier that day
we’d finalized her adoption
a judge in black robe
telling us our family was legal
and final
Baltimore ArtScape 1996
Robert Cray sang and played
and she was happy
as were we
now she dances
on the steps of the courthouse
where our family
first became a family
my musical child
now a woman
and I wonder
how two decades have passed
since I first held her
and knew what it was like
to love someone
so hard
that you forget
you need to breathe

 

Julie Ayers
NaPoWriMo Day 30

Found Poem: One Text Today From My Daughter

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The. You. I love.

Sierra.
You are the best of all the Mom.

The new one
and only a small group in

The. You.
I love it

and I have no clue who they really are
the same thing over and over
a month or two
and three of us who we are

the only one of my friends to play the game is on my iPhone
is so much better now than ever before

I go back in time and money to get my money

on the way you can do
go home.

Sierra the best thing about it

but it doesn’t work on my iPhone

to be able
too many people have to be

 

Julie Ayers (& Sierra)
NaPoWriMo Day 29

Commutual

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The dogwoods are blooming
Flat white flowers to my left
Pink to my right
They sway in the light wind
And raise their open faces expectantly

Rain like kisses
Covers the silken petals
They bend back under the weight
Quiver

Love me like the sky
Loves the blossoms
Some days full bright
Others stormy and dark
Irrevocably dependent
No matter the season

 

Julie Ayers
NaPoWriMo Day 23

A Boy’s Best Friend

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My son sleeps
with his nose
resting against the top
of our dog’s head
both in easeful repose
their breathing synchronized
their serenity palpable

Ten years ago
my very small son
climbed into our new puppy’s crate
curled up next to him
and whispered husky-voiced boy promises
of lifetime care and love
of catch and bones

Now as the perils of adolescence
rip jagged holes
in my son’s sense of self-worth
it is our canine senior citizen
who pushes open the doors
sheds unmatchable comfort
and leads his friend safely home

 

Julie Ayers
NaPoWriMo Day 11

Enumeration

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Rest on weary
candlelit scaffolding
some nights
the only bedrock
is the ambiance

She’s 49 out 50
in my opinion
you can’t assess
someone’s spirit
or accurately evaluate
their capacity to love
and be loved
there is no agreed upon measure
of sweetness and spunk

It’s only numbers on a page
one lens
not the entire elephant

Thank you for the reminder

 

Julie Ayers
NaPoWriMo Day 7

On Mothering A Son In February

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The belling pink flowers
in the ceramic purple vase
are still fresh
like your words

You grinned metal
as you rushed up the stairs
Saturday
bouquet in hand

When we hugged
my head reached
only your shoulder
The wonder of oatmeal

and years
a needlepoint of patience
with requisite tatters
eggs must be broken

Each day is played out
the same
you love me
you love me not

February 2016
Julie Ayers