You are paying
for dinner and we are going out,
a Mexican
restaurant we know well
but I haven’t
been to in a while. I comment we don’t
have the cute
balding waiter that’s been here forever
and knows
his stuff but we bumble through
with the guy
we’ve been given, though he’s lousy.
Midway through
we notice the booths have “cilantro”
engraved in
their backs, an herb I am not fond of,
so I make a
squishy face and you capture it on camera.
We drive
through the lofty neighborhoods,
looking at rich
people’s houses, wide-eyed at all the
windows and
landscaping, angles and architecture.
We choose our
favorites, then realize our gratitude
at having a
home of our own, though humble.
You take me out
for ice cream and I can’t decide
what I want (typical
me) and the conversation flows
so easily
throughout the night I wonder at how
we got
here...mother and son. I am not so much
guiding you as
walking beside you, not so much
leading you as
being a trusted mentor and friend.
At the end of
the adventure, walking back to the house,
I pause to
notice a sphynx moth praying at
our lilac bush
in this darkening evening,
drinking its
nectar. We both lean in, head-to-head,
just to marvel
at this miracle.
by Julie S.
Paschold
aka Tansy Julie
the Soaring Eagle
5.10.26
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