Mom Says

The skin under my shirt, like First Communion lace.

Whenever I leave the lake, Mom says “watch for cops” because everything to her is a speed trap. Our words betray our fears, do they not?

Even though it is fine to say no, please still say yes okay? This and other ways to put our mouths on summer.

July brings the heat but also, sweatshirt days. Summer squash coming on, snap peas and peppers. Another round of strawberries only feeds the birds.

More cardinals and lightening bugs but less mosquitoes than last year. I don't ask or wonder why because along with gifts can also come curses. So I say to the many earwigs living in the mailbox anyway.

Mom says I bring all the kids to the schoolyard when I visit because she swears KM hasn't been over to the house for a year and P hasn't stopped by on the boat since C died. I point out that these people are there to see her, yet she scoffs and deflects. Perhaps loneliness has taken hold in her busyness.

I swim with the girls and teach T. how to do a can-opener off the raft. Mom says I look good out there, like I did when I was younger. Moms are always watching, I guess.

Lex leaves and I usually say, “watch for deer” which is to say, “I love you. Please be extra careful.” But I don't this time because maybe the words don't always mean what you think.