It was the end of summer. The family had spent a few weeks in Iowa where my mother was now in hospice because of cancer. Both grandchildren spent time at her bedside and played with cousins, saw aunts and uncles and enjoyed the rare occasion of the whole family being together.
My younger sister would be the nurse. She had the training. I was worthless and returned home so the children could start school. In a few days I got the call. I booked a ticket to leave the next day. The children wanted to know why I was going again, since I had just been there.
When your mother dies, you go there.
A yellowjacket is not a bee
it is aggressive
stings multiple times
eats meat and honey bees
My daughter stepped in a hive
we were walking in the woods
off trail when buzzing
erupted out of the ground
Run I yell
we all ran towards our house
I licked her three year old’s wounds
with baking soda and kind words
love that child with all her stings
Someone needs to mow the grass.
Who could that someone be?
Is it me?
We need to plant the garden.
Who is we?
It must be me.
Child sacrifice poor Andromeda tied
her mother watching in the distance
starry night hope to be saved
Cassiopeia bright thru my window
I am both daughter and mother
Daughter bound from ignorance
to monsters in the heavens
break free before the dawn
NaPoWriMo prompt to do a self portrait using historical or mythical character. This poem is a 44 word poem called a quadrille. It is about generational curse between mothers and daughters.
There was a long list of pie makers in our family
It was not a competition
Yet it was
Who could make the tastiest pie
We like to remember most
Made with salt instead of sugar
Cherry pie with the pits still in
My daughter and her husband purchased five acres of land, lots of trees on it and a pond. There is an old house there, three sheds about to fall over, two old boats that might still float, an aluminum travel trailer that hasn’t traveled since 1998, and lots of work. She says she is feeling overwhelmed.
I remember when my husband and I were young and worked all day on weekends to clear land to build a house. I tell her that I don’t know how we did it. I can still clear brush and trim branches and find a yellow McCoy mouse cookie jar discarded in weeds. She too will find her surprises.
old abandoned house
still remnants of who was here
earth cycle passes
dVerse haibun prompt on surprises – the big surprise was that the cookie jar wasn’t broken
By the sea “Herring Eater”
Remembering gramma’s pickled herring
How dad and I loved it
one of “The Fairytale Sculptures” by Tom Otterness