run on sentences

I didn’t know how much my mom loved her grandchildren Till I had my own The first one, newly born when I held him Looked up at me with the eyes of my son who looked at me in a new way with his own eyes Already showing so much love Scarlett’s relief, and how beautiful she looked Even after so many hours of labor “I can’t believe she wants to eat” Billy said in wonderment That once the baby came out the pain stopped And the joy began I felt my mom’s presence that day Knowing she kissed him on the forehead  And sent him here probably with some admonition Like, “be nice” or “it will be better in the morning” Later Roman arrived  We weren’t there but I spent all day knitting, waiting I saw the pictures  Of Desmond greeting him with amazement His eyes wide,  hand in front of his mouth When I held him he was a few weeks old His contented look foretold of his future cheer Arms and legs practicing their movement In the sunlight in that bright room in Bogotá And that dimple, only on one side Cr

I was thinking that once someone, an old boyfriend?  My young husband? Once told me  “You make me want to be a better person” I saw it written out in cursive handwriting On a card with hearts, a valentine Or maybe it was a birthday Then I realized it was Jack Nicholson who said it To Helen Hunt in the movie “As good as it gets” Damn  - I laughed out loud And yet there is  a sense of regret Of wishing to leave a mark But maybe I failed Do people notice me at 7 am Walking my old dogs up the street at a very slow pace And do they miss me when I don’t ? Is it the staying home  The anonymity of wearing a mask, my lipsticked lips  Leaving a mark on the inside Is this why I wonder about my mark in the world Maybe people go through life not knowing If they made life good f or someone Then, I think of 135,000 people in the US And many more in the world Dead of Covid 19 And I know there is a big big hole In the lives of those who loved them May we never stop trying to be the one Who makes othe

I am not racist, I always told myself I was in first grade in 1960 When Ruby Bridges, escorted by federal marshalls Was the first black child to go to an all white school. I didn’t know about her My town was filled with everyone who looked like me Blonde, blue eyed white, freckled by the sun I was ten when the civil rights act passed It was a time when we had black licorice candy  Called Nigger babies And Mrs. Butterworth syrup in its bottle Shaped like a stout, kind black mammy. The scandal of a very blonde and pale Mae Britt Marrying a contrasting dark Sammy Davis Junior I remember seeing their picture  In my mom’s Photoplay magazine I was 12 before I saw a negro, What we called a black person then My sister and I went to Milwaukee in the late 60’s I had never been to such a big city I wrote in my diary that I was afraid of the large dark men  That I saw for the first time I didn’t understand why I was afraid No one told me to be

I am sorry,  my short, but sturdy legs The legs of my mother, well turned ankles and calf muscles  that draw compliments from other runners  Sorry I didn’t listen to you when you gently told me  “Look we are older and we have carried you through many marathons St. George.  New York.  Boston, twice  Please, we beg you to lower your expectations We got back into shape after a broken fibula Torn tendons and meniscuses But you want to keep going  And deny us rest so we can heal Give us a break  (no pun intended) Rest,  Ice.  Elevate Respect our years and be proud Your age group in races is getting smaller and smaller   We will keep you running If you just accept the slowing down We will hold you up as long as we can My strong legs, I am sorry I only noticed your wrinkled skin  and the ache from sciatica And the knee pain, persistent, tolerable, it will abate I am sorry I stubbornly ran on days when you said don’t I will listen now and be j

Toby and I ran today Clouds and daffodils The smell of lilacs air made clean by social distancing And my dad, I sense him near, Led the way on this perfect day A gentle rain came from those innocent clouds Splattered on the pavement  Toby shook it off As dogs do, didn't seem to notice Wet hair don’t care -soggy shoes  Spotted sunglasses All a small price to pay  For the smell of grateful trees and grass The smell of my dad Flannel shirt and sawdust collected in the cuffs of his pants And later spilled on my mom's kitchen floor His eyes, blue like the sky mirrored his apologies The sun peeked out   I looked for a rainbow And found it in the open tulips

“All in good time, my pretty, all in good time” The wicked witch said to Dorothy “All in good time” I tell you this now: Do not become frustrated by the mistakes From that complicated pattern Blue and green,  an aurora borealis. yarn from New Zealand 30% possum fur and 70%  wool picked out by your grandsons. Eventually it will be a beautiful shawl But first you must plow through unknown stitches Made clearer by you tube videos Watched over and over till you get it Tangled yarns  Main color versus contrasting Carrying one up the side, don't confuse them. May you have patience to continue,  to fix mistakes To finish Your struggles will turn into something beautiful But not today.

Sunday coffee at 230, I miss you I miss choosing a place,  my friend and I taking turns Trying to find the perfect cup.   She with her house coffee, black Me with my grande latte Complaining about the people who take up tables  with their laptops and homework But we  also envy them just a little We guiltily share the 450 calorie pink frosted cookie Talking about our retired lady weeks The coffee place are all empty now  Chairs on tables, no cookies The silent espresso machine no longer hissing out steam. I drink my coffee home alone on Sundays now Reheating it later in the day but it is not the same. When they let us out may we not complain  about the people and their laptops But be happy they are back  Will they be masked? Will the pink frosting cookies be allowed? We will allow them and each have our own May there be no guilt in 450 calories May the espresso machine steam out it’s joy

I am grateful for the gummy bears And the  unknown person who places them  Alone or in groups along the railing Overlooking the melted snow waters  Of the creek below Red, green, yellow, white, sometimes a few, And sometimes many, gathered or scattered Waiting for me to run by with my dog Toby Good for you for being out here, they say With their sticky mouths and high pitched voices I miss them when they are not there Sometimes there is only one and I am sad Where is his family and why is he alone?   Did the wind blow the others into the creek Were they eaten by dogs? Did they dive off in despair? But then they return in different colors  Sometimes in non bear shapes, just lumps In a circular arrangement on a nearby rock with a big  red cinnamon bear in the middle As if leading a meditation  Or giving instructions for some unknown task Does someone sneak in at night And place them there

Okay boomer You snuck up on me Just like my years I protest though And run half marathons On wrinkled, sturdy legs  My mother’s legs This hair is natural, never dyed, not gray (but I would let it be gray if it wanted) I am invisible in my sadness May you see me Not as my years and senior discount And early grocery shopping hours Ruining the economy Taking up ventilators That could save someone younger My life matters too

The earth moved the other day You were alone and probably afraid That and Coronavirus threatening to  Change the world and leave children w ithout grandparents Know that you are not really alone There is enough toilet paper for everyone Accept the help that is offered you And give what you can Let what is good touch your soul Let the world be there  Without being present Accept its gifts and still be grateful Walk your little dog And wear those tie dyed leggings  You thought were too young for you Bake those cookies and promise the tulips That spring will come