rose petals one by one

At the end of the day I am alone in the basement computer room.
Sophie sleeps in the bottom bunk with Pepper.
Beckam still sleeps in the bathroom with the fan running.
Andrew is leaving at 10:10 p.m. to play an 11 o'clock soccer game.
The loneliness of a mother is a strange thing.

Even though the house is silent, my ears prick up like Bambi's mother in the meadow.
It is kinda like speed, this awareness.
Although, not nearly so fun.
Buddhist ideals, which I find so appetizing, would suggest I do one thing at a time.
Mindfully.
I squeeze at least 2 things into one slot, if not 3 or 4.
I tell myself it is necessary.
It isn't though.
For example, I have eaten breakfast, lunch and dinner as separate entities every day this week.
I have not done the usual tally marks. For example : transfering a piece of cheeze from lunch over into dinner..
subtract that from what I would have intended to eat for breakfast the next day...
carry one piece of bread...
negate butter...
add 3 hershey's kisses...
........which cancels out any need for creamer in my coffee.....
and it just goes on.
Never equaling any sense.

When I am in this frantic state my ears are perked but perceive nothing.
I am going full speed into the wind and can't hear.
And at the end of the day, it's as if I've just come out of a black-out.
I don't know where I left my shoes, and I don't want to look anyone in the eyes.

Not today though.
Today I know exactly what I did.
I can remember the faces of my junior high girls.
They are in 7th grade.  We make art after school from 3-5 because their parents are at work.
We made Mother's day cards out of flower petals.
When we ran out of petals...we raced across the street in the rain to pick more.
I'll bet they will remember that.  The teacher who climbed a tree during a storm to finish an art project.
I brought them graham crackers, but didn't eat any.  Because it wasn't eating time.  It was 7th grade art time and I didn't want to miss it.