Pinetree Studio

On the way to my mother’s mother’s warm
cabin built on the lake I spent much of my youth,
I’d kick my feet and step on mama’s heart
when I would miss this boyfriend that stood too tall
over my head like a skyscraper, blocking the sun;
back when I thought the coolness was pleasant.
Before I knew that his 3.7 years above me would overshadow
my own kindness, that has been passed down by the sweet hands
of my mother, who showed me the sun and encouraged me
to savor the energy it gave. I would pout at the opportunity
to not spend this one weekend with the same person I spent
every week with. She told me distance makes the heart grow
fonder, so I would pour my tears into i miss you texts.

The distance gave me time, so I searched for all my reflections—
in the water evolved by the ripples our sweet swaying feet
spread, in the mirror seeing my skin glow
from the memories we were creating each day, in the spoon
that sparkles on its way to cradle the love of chocolate
ice cream passed down through all my mothers—I
saw in my heart the warmth of all the women before me.
Distance made my heart grow fonder, for all the feminine
love that brought me closer to myself. Distance told
me that I didn’t miss him, but that I would miss
who I’d become without him.