wisdom in her hands

Up till two last night reading Harry Potter and crying over fictional characters. Looking at old pictures of us and wanting to rip them to shreds but instead hiding them in old drawers to find on some rainy day when i dont still love you so much. Today i ate lettuce wraps and won ton soup with a wrinkled goddess i used to resent because she corrected my posture and critiqued my wild pink highlights. I used to eat fresh salted peanuts in her epic looking kitchen and buy her fanny packs covored with giraffs. I have fallen back in love with her because I am finally old enough to appreciate all those birthday cards and lunch dates. I can finally see the beauty behind her age and the wisdom in her carefully moisturized green tea smelling hands. I play her my music and restore her faith in this generation of chaos. i convince her we have morals and good taste in literature. i thank her for a wonderful afternoon and hug her like i mean it.
because i do.
Flashback to lying on your chest and watching Grease with my mom. My blue slippers were too big and made me slide accross our wooden floor. They led me into your toned freckled arms and I watched you chug a bitter tasting diet drink. I watched with wide eyes while i swung my legs and sat on the counter and prayed you woundt be angry if i went to the wedding escorted by the big brother i never had. If i sang hillbilly songs on a crowded reception floor and laughed a little too loudly at drunken jokes told by distant uncles. I hate when your lips get tight like that.