Soft Sand and Dishwater
Wrinkled but soft
Aged and veiny
Her hands have raised us
Tonight they stir spaghetti,
Hang wet clothes,
Wash the dishes.
And how beautiful they are.
It’s said to be heaven
Paradise on earth
I say it’s overrated
But part of her heart is there,
On the islands of Hawaii.
Someday she’ll bask in Hawaiian sunlight
Let the silky sand slip
Warmly through her fingers;
Sunglasses on, apron off
Dipping into ocean waves
Instead of bubbles and dishwater.
Our eyes meet
And I’m taken back to where I am.
The pot’s boiling, the washer’s churning
The kids are screaming, the dog’s barking
Her eyes are so tired
Somehow contently resigned.
“Someday, someday soon,
You’ll leave the dishes behind,
And fly across the sea.”
And her smile lights up the room.