Back to where we belong

We’ve lived a week of wisdom teeth
My lovely 20-year-old in her little girl white bed
A child for one short week
sleeps badly, faints from too many painkillers

We savour rich chocolate ice cream, very strawberry gelato
make chicken soup from scratch
mash potatoes ’till they squish

Pale-faced, cheeks puffed out to shame a chipmunk
she loves the comfort
Silly movies absorb long afternoons
Small, slow smiles sneak into her repetoire

Then, as the worst winter storm ices barren branches
she packs frozen mini meals, antibiotics just-in-case
I wave her out the door, into a car that whisks her from me

After she’s sheltered in the crook of my arm
I should be thrilled she’s okay
Instead I turn from the window

Hold my own hand

JC Sulzenko