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Lest Anyone Think It’s All Poetry and Pretty Pictures

A Poem:

Sound too low on the alarm, slept in.
Turn up sound, stagger to coffee, hear now loud chime reminding me I’ve switched to morning duty today so I can get youngest to gymnastics on time after school.
Jolted awake now.
Clapping, turning on lights, try to similarly jolt small humans I live with.
Hear scream from young one’s bedroom. Beloved pet toad is dead. Massive, hysterical, tears.
Remember that he told you his toad needed water and you said later and then forgot.
Pit in stomach.
Get everyone off to school on time with sub-par breakfast.
Wave youngest off, thinking as he turned the corner you forgot to sign the reading log in his planner.
Hurry to work anyway.
Twist right ankle in the hurry.
Experience one of the most difficult days of teaching you’ve ever, ever, known.
Due to the above, things to handle after final bell and late getting home, which will mean late to the one activity young boy looks most forward to.
Arrive home to discover more massive tears.
Skateboard trip home results in hand injury that makes gymnastics moot point.
Deal with injury.
Remind how sorry about toad. Ask about day.
Discover young one was still so sad about it when got to school he was sent to counselor, where discussed dead toad making him wonder what his dad looked like dead. Was it through the head?
Heartbroken for little one.
Beyond describing.
Beyond anything.
Wondering when call from counselor will come.
Also find out young one lost recess due to unsigned planner.
Pit in stomach.
Hold toad funeral in backyard.
Massive tears.
Make it inside start wondering what the *!@% to make for dinner.
Hear scream from young one’s bedroom.
Other boy. Next to his aquarium.
Massive tears.
Hold fish funeral in the backyard.
Decide trip to Petco in order.
Get boys very excited. Choose new pet.
Given list of decontamination steps to take before new pet can come home.
Instant tears.
Race home, start one boy on decontamination, run other boy in circles around home looking for swim team bag.
Race across town to pool.
Late for swim team practice.
Race home.
Decontamination in full swing. Whole house smells like vinegar.
Decide not cooking. Maybe ever.
Go out to eat even though promised self wouldn’t do that this week no matter how busy it got.
Pick up from swim team.
Still go to Petco. Get new pet.
Feel might have turned day around a bit.
Buckle falls off favorite shoes while walking in front door.
Re-twist right ankle.
Quite bruised now.

 

 

 

 

 

Race home.

Decontamination in full swing. Whole house smells like vinegar.

Decide not cooking. Maybe ever.

Go out to eat even thought promised self wouldn’t do that this week no matter how busy it got.

Pick up from swim team.

Still go to Petco. Get new pet.

Feel might have turned day around a bit.

Buckle falls off favorite shoes while walking in front door.

Re-twist right ankle.

Quite bruised now.

 

About the author

Jamie Gann

Jamie Gann

Jamie Gann grew up in Montrose and recently returned to teach writing at Centennial. Her first Monitor writings came via the South American travel blog her family kept during their sabbatical year. She has also written for The Crested Butte News, Radical Family Sabbatical, Gringos Abroad, and Outside In Travel Magazine. She has always had a love of words, which is only surpassed by her love of family. She is primarily a mom to two boys, for whom there are no words beautiful enough to describe.