Conversation

I woke to the scent of Estee Lauder wafting in the open window.
Mom Perfume. Heading for coffee, I asked Mom
if she'd like to join me for a cup. Her old and favored mug
was waiting by the coffee pot: My hubby leaves
me one all ready each morning.

"Been thinking a lot about you of late," I murmur. "Guess
maybe you knew. Just missing you, is all. And no,
nothing's wrong."

Our dog wanders out, sleepy, stretching out a paw at a time.
Then, turns; attention riveted to the chair across from me.
Always was Mom's chair. She leaps, circles three times, settles.
The pooch never jumps into one of the kitchen chairs.

I ramble, telling her about the kids, work, life. I ignore the phone.
Tell her about the lady I saw that reminded me of her, of how
my daughter says 'she's turning into Grammy.' I ask about Dad,
wishing, oh so wanting to hear a reply.

Warm air brushes by, the dog suddenly jumps down,
woofs softly. I smile, sipping the last swallow of my coffee.
I let the dog out, build up the fire.
So nice when Mom drops by...