Benko's Gambit

Today's gratitude:
grass worn to dirt under the swing set
and well-earned grit rinsed from the bottom
of the bathtub.

We avoid sentimental flicks where an empty swing is
blown by the wind while a frantic mother staples "have you
seen this child" posters to every telephone pole in town,
or maybe a favorite doll gets left behind when the
train leaves for Dartmouth and an overgrown
playground fades to a sad sad song by Elton John or
the "short people got no business" guy.

Today sand volcanoes erupt and lava
engulfs castle walls. A brave knight gets eaten
by a snake which in turn gets eaten by a
giant bat. I cannot decide whether
to continue the gratitude or turn inward into a
resentful rage as Vince makes another move on his
damn internet chess game against Erich or Alexei,
or possibly both, then sliding his finger across the screen,
checks for incoming messages between moves.
It is very important to keep current in these matters.

Yesterday on the way to Pedernales Falls,
his earbuds preached the new calculus as we
merrily merrily merrilyed gently down the stream all
the way down highway 35. He misses the signs, the
catch, the grass blades and pebbles in pockets.
He misses honey bread and prescription refills and
honestly in the middle of it all sometimes I just
want to be gone, to be clean, to grow fingernails
and walk at my own pace. I want to sew my
own shadow I want to sacrifice the pawn and
read in the passenger seat.

Today we send snapshots that no longer snap
across invisible wires, we pass napkins to
the back seat as I tell the story how last time
we were at the falls there were no children to
protect from angry rattlesnakes, no worries about
flash floods or broken glass in the sand. That afternoon
I actually fell asleep down on the flattest rock.

Uncle Greg, who at the time
was just Greg, took a photo.
The lighting was perfect, my hair was long.
I was holding your father's hand and
dreaming what it would be like
if you ever came to be, wearing down our grass
under the swing, sharing a bite
of your last pretzel, stacking up towers
and laughing every time they fell.

~