Outside My Window, A Leaf Falls
A poem
My husband and I read the news before we go to sleep on Sunday.
On Monday morning, we’re both groggy. Cranky.
The heaviness of it all sits in our dreams. We pull out our hair,
trying to figure out what to do so we don’t go back.
So that our son and future children will have a better world.
At breakfast, our toddler asks me where we’re going today. I tell him,
an adventure. We put on long sleeves and jackets. The wind whips
our hair as we head to the playground. News alerts ping my phone:
Enemy within. Floating Island of Garbage. Rock throwers.
America is for Americans only.
My stomach churns. I think of my grandfathers who fought Nazis
so that their children and grandchildren would never know a world with such hate. My son calls me from the top of the slide, “Look, mama!”
He heads down with a swoosh. He runs to me, hugs my knees,
and then looks up at me and says he’s ready for lunch. We head home, and I make a pomorola sauce for lunch, just like my Nonna
taught me. I think of how she yelled at the Nazi who came to her farm
and shot her goat and how he shot back at her for yelling. I think
of how everyone who has heard that story was always in awe
of her bravery. My phone buzzes with another news notification.
My son finishes his pasta and asks for a cookie with a toothy grin.
Outside my window, a leaf falls.
It is time to shed the old so that we may begin anew.
