Sweet Meh-mories

One child sets the table; the other punches them.

And then they both stomp around shouting "Where the food go/Where does the food go?" until it becomes a chant. Not sure if they're asking where the food went or where the food should be placed. But they're laughing too much to tell me. Then it becomes a song and somehow even after many, many hours on my feet, it really seems infectiously funny rather than annoying. Eventually, the table is set; Big A gets some photos; we eat. It's "the best Thanksgiving meal ever/really knocked it out of the park" for the 10th or 11th year in a row. All these dorks are nothing but kind.

There was an aborted game of You are a Liar and another of Coup, and the Criterion edition of The Gold Rush and more of L's pumpkin pie and Big A's whipped cream. Repeat.

So grateful. Really don't know how I would make it without these two and the rest of my crew. (11/26/2020)

Just us

(Huckie must already be at the table starting without the rest of us.)

A couple of "trunksgiving" exchanges (LB+TB)

a couple of food drop offs (SB + KS)

It wasn't last year, or even close to our regular but it was happy.

 

Prep Mode

These guys kept me company while I got some Thanksgiving dinner prep done today. As At pointed out, this picture encapsulates them perfectly: Huck can barely contain herself and Scout is pretending stoicism.

It's going to be so strange doing a Thanksgiving with just us. We each picked a dish, and that gave us a more tightly edited menu, but it's not exactly spare. So far, my cranberry chutney turned out amazing (extra onion, apple, and fresh ginger... yum). No one actually asked for it, but what else am I going to goop over the roast root veggies which were my pick?!

Also keeping me company--EM's pistachio baklava. She had "extra" and brought me a whole plateful. I am so thankful.

Curling into an ending

Kiss the day with mother-tongue

HumHymnOm to morning

parse words from sounds

through the day.

To Sleep

How did I not get here earlier--

Was I just riding skies

instead of seas--

Sadness and gladness are cruel 

sirens, crossing countries

with me, waiting

near the cave that is my mind.

Do you hear me? Hear me!

Bear me forward.

I hymn you in the old ways

drowsily exhaling light

breaking like the day. 

Out and about

Today I want to write a poem that will not be about dying 

maybe something something being in community 

about being connected and continuing

About holding my arms out like a tree even when empty

(stop that!) about sending all my pain to the sea, 

where it's already salty

By day I will read something lofty, edifying, clear

At night, I will watch stars that seem cold 

and know they're really quite fiery

Alert with my intention, my asylum of inattention

I sling myself to beauty, ignore summer's

pillows smattered with snow

Afterglow