Today at lunch in the outdoor caféI hear your laugh but don’t turn.
Summer salad with strawberries,
walnuts, and romaine fills my plate.
My fork finds its way to each perfect bite.
I hear your laugh again, hear the two of youtalking about your classes and the girl
you met at the Ray’s game. I order
white zinfandel and dark bread so I can sit
until you laugh again. You say, I’ve got this, Mom!
My tears mingle with the raspberry vinaigrette.You walk out with your arm resting on her shoulder.
The pain moves into the pit of my stomach
as I drink deeply and see you through the pink fluid.
I’m thankful you have blonde hair, and you aren’t tall.