Dinner With My Son

 Dinner with My Son the Day Before Mother’s Day

―To Lyle

 

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

Violent Seams in the Concrete

 

The Stance on Holding Love: a poem

 The Stance on Holding Love:

I Know if You Were Here

 --to Lyle

 

Two days ago on my walk at work,
alongside the county road lay a raccoon,
body so fresh I wanted to reach out
and touch its nose and I know
if you were here you would have been
as intrigued as I in the small leathery
snout and tiny hands, still outstretched,
and we would create some story to go along
with its upturned belly and shortened life.

 

When I got home, the air so dry
it smelled of newly shed pencil shavings,
my roommate had gotten rid of a snake
she trapped in our basement—
her fear of this harmless garter
so severe she screamed beforehand—
and I know if you were here, you would
have examined each stripe and the
forked tongue and scales before
taking it back outside.

 

Tonight I started watching Life On Our Planet
on Netflix as you suggested, and I know
if you were here we would be enamored
with each fact and creature, and have to stop
the program to have conversations about
what we were learning.

 

Later on my way out of town I had to
slow down on the highway to let a coyote
finish crossing the road. He planted
his paws and straightened his legs
in such a stance, head bowed, that it
seemed he was thanking me for waiting,
for saving him. I know if you were here,
you would appreciate that.

 

Nora Rose Tomas says that to love something
means that you can’t quite hold it, and I know
now that you are an adult
I can no longer hold you here, keep you
from moving out on your own. Though my home
is now your permanent residence,
your room usually remains empty as you are
out exploring the world. But I also know
the heart has many rooms,
and there is a space in mine where I
still hold you, forever in my love.

 

Tansy Julie the Soaring Eagle Paschold

10.4.24