I Promise.
I will surround myself with soft things,
Especially rainbow-colored sweaters.
I will buy myself rain-boots with polka-dots on them
And jump in every puddle I come across.
I will drink hot cocoa that's mostly marshmallows.
I will eat salads and fresh vegetables.
I will buy the chocolate milk even though it's 65 Cents more.
I will clean the house with a comedy or a podcast or a Greek
Philosopher, or whatever the hell I want
Playing in the background.
I will laugh, a lot.
I will hug my dog, and not be sorry when I can't stop sneezing.
I will make snow-angels in the winter.
I will watch wildlife documentaries when I can't sleep
And I will cry when the animals die.
I will dance at 4 in the morning singing
We Are the Princes Of the Universe.
I will put on my favorite pair of shoes, with the mismatched laces,
And walk until my feet get sore, then turn back.
I will spend my money how I please because I earned it,
But I will be the only one I can blame when all the
Stuffed animals I bought are hogging my blankets.

My mother's eating lasagna, and it's raining outside.
She's watching her drama show again,
the one that's set on a ranch in Australia.
I can't hear it.
I'm focusing on the rain, and the tingles running down my spine.
Her fingernails are absently scratching trails up and down
my right shoulder blade.
I am seventeen, but here, I am nothing more than hers.
My nose is tucked into the back of her knee.
I am once more cradled by her body.
My arms are clutching round her crossed legs.
When the show is over, I will kneel still, collapsed
at the feet of my lifeguard, my nurse, my teacher, my saving grace.
She'll lightly run her fingernails in ovals over my scalp,
and read me verses from Isaiah.
Then it's off to bed.
I'll be back next week to wrap my shaking hands round her
crossed legs and hide my face. She will be there next week
to pet the anxiety out of me.