Breakfast with Mrs. B.

She is beautiful,
She is 84,
She has dementia,
Living life in her terms,
With crisp memories of her younger days.

She stays alone by choice,
With her daughter living close by, taking care of her,
Making sure her food is in the fridge,
Making sure the house is cleaned,
Making sure she has clean clothes.

But she can’t stand her daughter,
The daughter who manages her needs, visiting her everyday,
Meeting ends with her job and family, raising her own three little kids,
With no time to comb her hair,
But always wearing a smile on her face.

She adores her sons,
She enjoys their call,
As they spoke words of love and not a nagging reminder, for her medication, food or doctor’s appointment,
She waits for their visit,
And they visit once in a while coming in fancy cars, Taking her out in fancy restaurants.

Her daughter hired me to have breakfast with her mother,
Every morning, I introduced myself,
Using the same line,
I used yesterday,
She dressed well wearing a bright pink lipstick.

She spoke in rich English, with no room for using slang,
Taking me back to her sophisticated life, Taking me to places she traveled,
Showing me a world I have never seen,
As we eat breakfast together.

In the land where you were born,
It’s a day meant to be,
With your parents,With your siblings,
It’s a day meant to be in the house you grew up.

Having a feast together with the best fish dishes,
Wearing your finest clothes and jewelery,
Celebrating your origin,
A day filled with love and laughter.

Stepping out from the house,
Filled with dreams in your eyes,
You never knew,
How much this day would mean to you.

Staying so far away,
Across oceans and mountains,
You are thankful for the wishes and celebrations with the family you have found,
And yet you feel the void.

Missing and longing to be in the place you were born,
To celebrate this special day,
Another year passes by,
And yet you stay hopeful to make it some other year.

~The End~

The Red high heels

You have been eyeing me for quite a while,
Seeing many others and yet coming back to me,
Watching me from all angles,
From your look I know, you want to walk with me.

If you are single,
You will get attention,
Heads will turn as you walk,
Making you Ms. Hot.

If you are married,
You will still get attention,
Heads will turn,
Making you a spendthrift.

Either way,
there will be heat,
Maybe a different kind of heat,
Swipe your card,
Take me home and dress up for yourself.

~The End~