YOU ARE THERE

I was wearing my dark grey, ribbed, mock turtleneck
and my sleeveless, houndstooth, button-up dress
because I wanted to look special for your visit

I showed you my dorm room
and then we sat in the lounge
and Mom snapped a picture
with my head on your shoulder

You had come to see me because I had been suffering acutely
and you wanted me to know that you were there to support me

When I think back to the moments of solidarity
I shared with my father before he died
I realize he is "there" in all future moments of suffering

And then I think about the moments of jubilation
like when I wept while reading my "Why My Choice is Life" essay
at the Birthright convention

He wept too

so that means even though you were gone by the time
I adapted, produced, and directed my first play
and gave away my kidney

You were still there

And that is such a comfort

AN EDUCATION

That week I slept on the sofa bed
I was too brokenhearted and miserable to sleep in my own room
Dark and devoid of the distraction afforded by television

While I realize now that the tears I shed were wholly wasted
on a man undeserving of my grief
at the time, I sobbed in anguish so loudly
that your fears of being useless
were flooded by the need to do something to comfort me

When you sat on the edge of the pull-out bed,
     I asked you
Dad, should I marry him?
     If he loves you
was your reply

Not if you love him
but IF HE LOVES YOU

And then you made me a cup of tea

HELL, YEAH

I tip my glass to the sign
"Make the most out of every day"

Does that mean drink a whole bottle of wine
and dance in the kitchen

Or something else?

TRACING MY HANDS

I have my father's hands

but now I wonder
who else's hands do I have?
were they my grandfather's
or my grandmother's?

and then

were they my grandfather's father's
or grandfather's mother's?
or my grandmother's father's
or grandmother's mother's?

which branch of the family tree do my hands dangle from?

and could I trace them all the way back
to wheels and caves

or ever farther