The Eve of Age 17

I’m pushing into new territory. Others have gone before me, found new hobbies, careers that spin close enough to passion, lovers and friends: things that take up space. Or perhaps, maybe, could be that some of them are like me: wrinkling, shriveling up, pruned & lined in their almost nightly bathes. If I just get warm enough: I’ll subdue my racing heart. That heart that still beats for a baby. That baby, the one that came into our home on the tail end of a snowstorm. Like they say, that barometric temperature change will kick the body into knowing how to get that baby born. And that baby will come into my house and make it a home. A home without ivy because ivy might hold that door closed. Our baby, she crawls, then toddles, walks & eventually struts right to that front door. She makes a way to make enough money to pay for gas & her lips still curl into a smile that hits her still-chubby cheeks that reaches me deep enough to hand her a $20. A $20 that she slides into her palm that picks up her keys. It’s a good day when the door doesn’t slam behind her, true pleasure when she calls out a sweet goodbye.





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