Solo

Solo

I still pile up towels over the closet door,

after every shower

I still rush to work,

with two minutes to spare

I still procrastinate by making coffee,

toasting bread and decorating my yogurt

I still butt heads with my cat,

who sits on my work

I still plug away at the emails,

endless grading and lesson plans

I still check my text messages, work email, personal email, Facebook, LinkedIn and then the News,

IF I am that bored

I still painstakingly wash,

one casserole dish at a time from my refrigerator

I still leave my classroom,

after little baskets and lamps are tucked away

I still pack my lunch,

with warm pesto pasta and a clementine orange

I still take funny risks,

that are not a big deal to most people

I still take off in the afternoon,

to run around in circles outside my door

I still avoid the gunk in my sink,

and take off to the gym instead

I still play that folk electronica,

anticipating the songs I know best

Will I still?

I wonder,

When they leave me for good?

Or will I transcend motherhood into,

another lifeform?

Solohood,

will I automatically start,

seeing a room full of buddies at Café Chiave,

to swing, knit and clap hands with?

For now,

motherhood is a land of

bok, bok, boking

Still,

The chirp from the redwing blackbird,

is not that different from,

the chattering and tackling,

of little boys,

who have used up all of their screentime for the day.

I still like to feel the constant buzzing

even when the last tank car

has drifted far away,

And, I can finally cross the track.