role models

They look like little flecks floating through the sky
and in the space around me.
They’re so light, weightless and free, that if I pretend hard enough they become snowflakes.
So precious and delicate.

But it hasn’t snowed here in years
and that magical melancholic unicorn that appears has become a distant memory. I remember when.

No, there is no snow.
Only the rain that promised to stop,
yet I found my shoes slipping off the pedals,
my tires splashed through puddles,
and dots of moisture covered my sunglasses until they became a film and so I had to clean them at every stop light.
It’s not even sunny.
I wear them for protection.
No thing can get in my eyes,
and today,
no one.

Cold and wet,
I sit in the waiting room.
Waiting to be seen.
Waiting to spill everything.
Waiting for another prescription refill.

Waiting to return a now wet bicycle seat.
Waiting for the wet ride back.
To return to my mother, who is waiting in my apartment.

I’ve been praying for a release from this marriage for years.

Well mom, you may have broken the promise you made before God, but at least He answered your prayer.

———–
Side note: amidst all this my dad asked me why I didn’t have plans for Easter and I explained that I didn’t share his beliefs. He asked how long has it been that way, and I said “always”. And then I felt embarrassed when he waited for me to stop talking before dinner, so he could say grace alone.