Rambling pride

Tired, so tired.
Happy but…
Why did that new plant die?
Want to stop,
be calm, quiet, collected
sleep like Rip
Want to belt it out like Linda Ronstadt
or Joan Jett
wish I had their voices.

Feel so young
but I’m not soo
anymore. And I feel that too.

Taught a great class this morning.
Strawberry cardamom.
Took boys out,
one to French,
other to the playground, snowcone, bookstore.

Left with a Lego.
Not a surprise.
Back to French.
“Has he been in French school?”
“Mais, il est tres bien.”


Home, make dinner.
Share my favorite pasta
with the boys.
Of course, they love it like I do
and now want it tomorrow
and the next day.

Pride swells. Also territorialism.

We want pizza. Out of crusts.
Out of propane. No mozzarella.
Husband goes out, gets all.

Kids build Lego, crash MagnaTiles,
make so much noise. Want me to
watch it all.

I want to read the news.
Did you hear of the horror in DC?
A boy tortured and killed,
just a year older than my J.
His parents and a housekeeper too.
I just can’t.

Pour some wine, roll the crust.
T splurged and bought the best cheese.
Still high on eleven years of
celebrated yesterday.


Hard work, earned happiness.

Pride in it all.