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
partly because I spent most of the day in the dirt-webbed basement
all my younger cousins had outgrown,
This was written for the We Write Poems prompt Tradition.