A cool feeling of a half used tablet on my lap.
The current page positioned neatly between tiny bored in the backseat scribbles of a child.
Blank, it stares up at me, waiting and knowing it is the perfect hour,
Our usual hour to be seduced.
I glower back, knowing the words don’t visit me as I rest anymore.
So I sit here in yesterday’s clean pajamas,
Beside yesterday’s coffee mug.
My fingers mimic the shape of an L around my mouth.
Next to me are a dictionary, and a headless ken doll.
Ken was bumped off by my daughter’s seven year olds hands.
I gave up looking underneath beds a month ago.
And so I sit here in front of this mirror next to Ken.
My creases whisper softly like preschoolers telling secrets,
“We cometh in Peace”
I could roll in the isles cackling except,
“THE HELL YOU DO”
It hits me then,
Little brown eyes peeking through a crack in the door,
Placed neatly among tiny seven year old,
Pink painted fingernails.
Eyes curled up with wonder and orneriness.
Like a teenager sneaking out,
With her dilapidated blanket in tow.
She nestles herself into my chest.
As I take in the scent of her grape shampoo and coconut lotion.
Soon, I forget about the laundry, the creases, and Ken’s missing head.
Photo Courtesy of my daughter CJ