Living Room

My mom is setting the table. Fork in hand, spoon in hand, plate in hand. Everything on hand. I fidget with a napkin. I told her about a dream I had. She didn’t think it was funny either. I dreamt that I graduated college. My name was called on stage, It was ethereal. Silverware clanging gently. Getting ready for the guests. I would put a diploma in the living room, I decided. I would always take the time to dust the frame, before guests would arrive. I promise. I would dust it every time.