Empty Nest, Full of You

When you left

I waded through something flu-like

with reverse magical symptoms

Sluggish, fevered, untethered

smoke circling some clogged drain

with unidentifiable rough bits.

The enchantment came later,

eating cheerios and peaches for dinner in the

recliner that replaced your bed.

You weren’t a state of mind, but a door

with textured paths that spidered away, back and beyond

and returned me to myself.

Still when I hear “Mom” anywhere,

in that syrupy voice of a toddler

or prickly tween,

or anywhere along the human spectrum

I am not needed, but I turn anyway and remember you there

and then tuck the moments back onto my heart’s memory foam.

Now, I am trying to figure out how to mother myself

finding sanctuary in my own eyes

throwing roses and kindness at myself for no reason.

Just that I am here

and you are there

both of us all grown up now.