And so for the morning we practice being
eight years old again, two sisters pedaling
bicycles, yours powder blue with white daisies,
mine innocent pink with creamy roses.
We fill our wicker baskets with adult treasures
of triple crème cheese, fresh mangoes and syrah
wine from the Ojai Valley, unlike the trinkets
from our past, Queen Anne’s Lace, mica rocks
and the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches
we toted up Maple Avenue into the “woods,”
a patch of greenery in an industrial suburb,
where we played until the sun began to set
and Mom called us home for dinner.
Tonight we toast our bond with Pink Moment Martinis,
adult pink lemonade blended to reflect the rosy cast
of the Topa Topa Mountains at sunset,
soft, smooth mountains, that during the day seem
to roll in undulating waves of green-velvet sphagnum moss.
Remembering our mother, we vow to continue our spa reunions,
to be coddled, wrapped, massaged and rejuvenated,
until the day Mom finally calls us home.
• • •
Dianalee Velie is a graduate of Sarah Lawrence College and has a master of arts in writing from Manhattanville College. She has taught poetry, memoir, and short story at a number of East Coast universities and colleges, as well as in private workshops throughout the United States, Canada, and Europe. Her award-winning poetry and short stories have been published in hundreds of literary journals. She is the author of four books of poetry and the short story collection Soul Proprietorship: Women in Search of Their Souls.
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