mother + daughter
In twenty years my daughter invites me to dinner,
And I bring flowers. I am not early, or late. I look like Diane Keaton and compliment her shoes. I say take out is fine but when I walk in I see her behind the grill and clap my hands, “How fun! Shall I set the table?” We plan our next trip over the appetizer (I brought edamame and spring rolls, from her favorite spot)- I’ve pulled a list of new restaurants in Prague, in Portugal. We pour over their menus. I tuck her hair behind her ear as we look at the computer together, and for a second she grabs my hand and kisses the top of it. It is nothing, everything. I ask if she wants sparkling or still for dinner. We don’t talk about men or children or work; we talk about the news, the poem, the painting she just bought. We decide on Prague. She makes me laugh with a dirty joke. We do the dishes together listening to Dolly; I sweep; she wipes the table. We will talk tomorrow and see each other soon.
by Kathleen Donahue
@kathleenicanrah
*i was so inspired by this lovely piece and hope to write my own soon* but i just had to share its beauty with you all
Comments (1)
Kelly
October 18, 2022 at 3:44 pm
I needed to read that poem today. Not sure about other moms, but in my house there is a push-pull rhythm that exists when raising a strong willed, vibrant 4 year old girl who’s trying to understand the world in her unique way. This poem was a sweet reminder that the messy moments we have sometimes are precious, too. Twenty years from now my daughter will be 24. I know it’s going to go by in a blink of an eye. Look forward to the future, but will enjoy the now.
My daughter and I will have our calm dinner, listening to Dolly, planning trips in the future… and hopefully my Goddaughter and her sweet mama will join us. 🙂
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