Then she looked at my face,
all puffy and pissed, read
everything she needed to there.
Looks like we’ve got a lot to talk about.
But maybe this isn’t the best time?
I wanted to talk. Needed to.
But how could I possibly talk
to her? She was my mom.
I know I’m your mom and not always
easy to talk to. But I’m here for you.
I was ready for a lecture.
Why did she have to choose
that moment to try “nice”?
I want to hear all about your trip. Let
me know when you’re ready.
Big girls don’t cry, especially
not in front of their mommies.
But a cloudburst threatened.
I hope you’re hungry. I’m making
your favorite—lasagna and garlic bread.
I was hungry (somehow).
I was tired (still). I was hurting (inside and out).
And more than ever, I wanted to walk with the monster.
Over Lasagna and Garlic Bread
I talked about airplanes.
I talked about lonely seatmates,
third-run movies, and pretzels
(for this price!) in place of meals.
I talked about Albuquerque, bowling alley
etiquette, Los Alamos-grown cockroaches,