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As a kid, when you see people you know get married you don’t like it because you have to dress up and sit in a church and watch them stand up there for a long time. As a teen you find it more romantic and you’re happy for them and you enjoy the festivities. As a young adult you find it strange that your friends are getting married and having kids when you’re still just watching from the audience and saying “isn’t that nice.” You start to feel a sense of love, a sense of loss, a sense of urgency. You notice you’re not young anymore, and then you talk to someone who is even older than you and in the same position. They talk like they are supposed to catch the bouquet because they are older, and you still have time because you’re just a baby at twenty-something. You believe them for a second, and then you remember it’s not a race… but getting a head start is never a bad idea.
My seven year old daughter
wants to make me
brunch for Mother’s Day.
I would feel hollow
without honoring the meal.
I let her.
She cooks me toast, one slice,
and joins me at the table. Innocently,
I tell her she still has
her mother’s eyes. I smile—
why?
The toast leaps out and impacts the floor,
startling her. I pretend
to jump in my seat, which
comforts her;
but in truth, she’s not convinced.
I want the chance to jump
again, but can’t,
because I don’t usually run the errands,
and now we’re out of bread.