Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Beached
...a memory


The moon's a harsh mistress
Sang Judy Collins on one of her 7
0's albums...

Well, the moon may be cruel to lovers at times

but for total hardheartedness
the sun takes takes the prize...

on a humid, 96-degree day
as I cross the street from the parking lot
facing another day at work
with vacation still so far away
another three weeks away

And the sun
aims its beams straight down
activating my brain's memory cells
and it's not 2007 anymore
it's 1998 or 1999
my oldest is 11 or 12
and the younger one 8 or 9
and I take them to the shore for a few days
just the three of us
leaving my husband alone back at home
(which is all t
he vacation he really wants...)

We make plans for the half-week get-away
days on the beach
an evening at the amusement pier
another at a movie

They're still in early morning rising mode
but they go watch TV and joke with each other
while I get to read and listen to the radio
in the bedroom

and drink lots of coffee
till it's time for brunch and a trip to the beach

A modern architectural wonder in miniature
rises from the sands
then they play frisbee and collect shells
and jump into and over and under the waves

as a plane flies overhead
a banner in tow

they're well-behaved and having fun
even the younger one never complains
never says he's bored

they amuse each other
like a couple of sand crabs

While the salt air permeates the days and nights
and for three whole days
no one fights
or shouts
and for once I'm happy
really happy
be a mom


And strolling the boardwalk in the evening
I can't decide
which tastes better
on my tongue
the ice cream cone or the salt air

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