Caught By Surprise

Part 1
The *tugging started at noon. They had stopped for a bite to eat at the Yankee Doodle Diner, newly renovated. It was crowded with old people. He ordered coffee, toast, eggs over easy, juice. She had pancakes and orange juice. She was hungry, famished. She was afraid to eat too much. With her last baby, she’d thrown up halfway into her labor, dry heaves that wouldn’t stop. She reached across to his plate and wiped up some egg with a piece of brown toast. Her husband ran his long fingers through her hair. 
"You want my juice?" he asked. 
She nodded, picked up his glass and swallowed it in one gulp.

Part 2
The wave crashed on her. It pressed her face into the sand, small stones cut into her knees. Salt water burned her nose. It had happened so fast. She thought she had time to get to the shore. It caught her by surprise.


(Ode to laboring & birthing Claire)

Long Light

It's late. I've been sitting out front enjoying the long light, watching the sky slowly ease into night. In the stillness, memories bubble up freely; like fireflies, appearing, disappearing. Night's magicians.

This tiny window opened for me tonight:

Mom and I are in the elevator of the 14th Street apartment in NYC. She is dressed in a skirt, maroon pumps, a blazer? Her hair is permed. She is holding her handbag in front of her body.

I am wearing a patchwork skirt [I loved that skirt!] that falls to my ankles, a shirt sans bra, tawny-colored Frye boots. My hair is long and pin straight. A backpack is slung over my shoulder.

We are facing the elevator doors, not speaking and then, we glance over at each other and burst out laughing. Or maybe shake our heads? Either way, a good moment.

Dad's Blue Raleigh

Memory:

We live in a brick house in a quiet neighborhood in Wilmington, Delaware. Our house, 110 South Road, sits on a hilly street lined with sycamore trees.

I am six. We are out biking; me and my brothers, and Dad. I am straining to climb the hill on my blue bike, about to give in to the hill when Dad swoops up from behind, on his old blue Raleigh, and effortlessly pushes me up to the driveway. I can feel the palm of his hand, strong, in the middle of my small girl back.

I am flying.