I Am

I am Wednesday morning trips to the local library with my mom and younger siblings, Wandering wondrous paths through bookshelves bustling with books. Exploring, savoring, lingering inbetwixt paragraphs, sentences, words. Spirited away to a fantasy far from my monotonous world. I am Impromptu tea parties, tiny rosy teacups, fitting easily in my tiny, delicate hands. Drinking creamy green Irish breakfast tea, just like Mommy does, Sneaking a sip of her nutty coffee, sweetened with brown sugar, lighted to a soft beige, Giggling and rubbing gritty umber coffee grounds between our palms. I am Dancing, twirling, leaping to “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” in honey-sweet memories. Repeating the same album, thrice over, harmonious Celtic melodies, fueling sappy daydreams. Cherishing the singing birthday cards I’ve received, their chipper voices piercing my ears, Gleefully opening and closing their bright covers until their songs are garbled and warped. I am Reminded of beauty in the juniper-colored liquid depths of my loved ceramic bear mug, Kissing his forehead as I sip my favorite Irish breakfast tea, now grown out of creamers. Strolling through the homely lanes of my memory, a ball of light in my chest. Seeking her out, and finding that where I look, there she emerges. I am Still with my mother. Carrying her memory, holding it gently, caring for it delicately. Guided by her hand, her colorful spirit always brightening my smile. And there she will live on, within me.