a single tear glides down her cheek
like a snail out for a walk down the driveway
slow, slow, slow
It’s time, her body knows
but her mind–
her mind longs to wrap the images tight–
a burrito bursting with memories of her children and their milestones.
A breath passes silently between mother and daughter
[the daughter impatiently awaits her freedom in the city of her dreams;
the mother finds all the nooks that just won’t be cozy enough for her child.]
And then it’s time; for certain this time
Trains don’t wait for late mothers,
no
So she pulls her golden child into her arms–tight
a burrito of love, safety, everything she can’t leave behind
behind the door, a daughter bounces celebrating her liberty for the first time;
behind the door–on the other side–a mother wipes her tears with her t-shirt,
celebrating a new liberty after twenty-four years.
