Every year,

cracks are stretching deeper.

Aunt J wasn’t there for Thanksgiving,

then she wasn’t there for Christmas,

then neither were my cousins, her sons.

This year, mom asks,

is it okay if my grandparents pick the tree without us?

and I catch the repeat “okay if they pick the tree” and say,

“No.”, but that’s the wrong answer,

and maybe it’s okay if they pick the tree

if we can still have cider.

This year, my post-Thanksgiving meltdown

was smaller than last year’s

post-Thanksgiving meltdown,

partly because I spent most of the day in the dirt-webbed basement

all my younger cousins had outgrown,

tracing light.

This was written for the We Write Poems prompt Tradition. 


4 thoughts on “Tradition

  1. Sometimes events, activities, or other experiences are enhanced by the absence of typical components. A couple years ago, I was ill and sent My Beloved Sandra off to celebrate Thanksgiving without me. It worked well for me (a natural hermit) and, surprisingly, she said it worked well for her, too, allowing her to have a different focus than if I’d been there with her.

    Hey, ya never know, eh?

  2. I love that opening image of the cracks stretching deeper. In my life, it’s more like chasms…but I have the most important people around me left. But time does stretch two people apart, doesn’t it? Also what I like is the careful selection of a few images to tell your story, especially the last one of you in the basement, tracing light.

    Thanks for playing. 🙂


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