Marvelling in the Pink afternoon

Marvelling in the pink afternoon, pretending to crochet a drawstring. I’ve done it before, at least once before, followed the pattern. Closed the purse. I can’t nearly begin to learn that not all things are meant to bring pleasure to me…they are oft’ meant to gift, to love, to let go of. Don’t pull too hard…enclose a piece of your heart on a little toy ship…let the paper sailboat head toward the pond-swan. Even mom’s precious teacups sunk to the glass bottom, broke in pieces. Her words stay, meaningful & meaningless. She meant us siblings to cheek-kiss. Dad’s eyes see through the glass bottom - either smiling bright or sad if we fight, so we mustn’t fight. Marvelling in the pink afternoon, pretending to pour tea. Laying linen on familial laps. Kind cubes of sugar, kerplunk, splash about with leafy-hugs. the drawstring closes over promising memories. Marvelling in the pink afternoon, letting go of…