In Your Eyes

(poems go here) Every night you tuck me into bed before saying goodnight just like you did with your mother, when you’d use the little strength you had to lift her over your shoulder and carry her up the stairs when her tangled mind was too busy to remember how to move her limbs. Every Saturday morning you make those chocolate chip Mickey Mouse pancakes just like you used to make for your younger bothers when you would wake up to an empty house and a message on the machine saying not to wait up. Your mind wanders to your happy place, age six, eating angel food cake at the counter across from that tall gray building she kept you away from, but would leave you at the bakery to visit. Your soft blue eyes tell me these stories every time the phone rings, and your heart sinks, when you can’t decide if you are hoping for good or bad news.