I know I posted this photo last week, and I know it was a (wonderful!) 50 degrees in Pittsburgh today, but I wanted to share the poem I wrote:
I saw him slipping down the hill.
If he were an adult,
he would have had to have fallen,
had to have been startled
and tense as he slid down the slope.
But between a primary-blue beanie
and a yellow-lined parka
I saw a mad and childish grin.
I thought about his mother.
I walked during the midmorning
so perhaps he had escaped from school
to sled down his hill,
no taller than the height we both would have reached
if he had climbed up upon my shoulders
and stretched his arms out.
Perhaps she was hurried,
and expected to find him in the car,
not covered in snow from the waist down
and grin-shivering in the cold.
I hoped that the lesson he learned
after a day in school with a frozen bottom
was not that butt-sledding is a waste of time
or to take better care of his pants,
but that sometimes the best fun
comes at the price of an angry mother
and a sore tailbone.
On a less cheerful note, the Catholic Church had priests read an anti-Obama administration letter aloud at many sermons this past Sunday, the Susan G. Komen Foundation has shown humiliating cowardice and is threatening the lives of hundreds of thousands of women who (like me) use Planned Parenthood as their primary care. Comment on their forum and sign this petition if you’re mad.
In better news, Netflix has all of Star Trek: The Next Generation.
“Things are only impossible until they’re not.”–Star Trek: The Next Generation, Jean-Luc Picard