When Motherhood was in Black and White - and thankfully it changed

Back in the day, there was no discussion, no space to disagree,

Risking the vacuum of being unseen.

Everything was black and white, yes or (no), 

The Matriarchs decided what to wear, when to eat,

The Patriarch mandated silence at the dinner table

(Regardless if you were choking on tough chunks of meat),

We all obeyed because they ruled in black and white.

Memories of Grandma's face enveloped in the grey cloud

Of cigarette smoke, and the grey landscape of life at home

With Mother, perhaps black and white would at least have offered

Contrast, and maybe a rainbow could have occasionally 

Burst through the seams of darkness.

They are smiling in this black and white photo but

I know that their entwined lives were mostly black,

Dreary in misunderstandings and steeped only in responsibility.

Today, there is color in mothering, reds and yellows, greens

And pinks, the drama of disagreement, the warmth of love

And connection, I see it everywhere even in the black and

White moments of difficulty, a rainbow will emerge,

A pot of gold at the base.

Such is love.

 

Karen and Felix 

Tori and Warren

So colorful!

There's a rainbow in my breakfast bowl

There's a rainbow in my breakfast bowl,

And I know not from where it came.

There is no prism hanging in my window, 

Only a squirrel staring at me from the bird feeder,

Only new buds on the Serviceberry bush,

There is no optical grating, not a single thing

That explains this rainbow.

I place the rainbow on my hand to raise it,

Seeking its source only to find that my rainbow

Has disappeared, as has the squirrel.

Conclusion:  the squirrel must have delivered

The rainbow to my bleary eyes this 

Lovely morning.  

 

The $150 haircut...never again

Why is it that on the third cut, the price goes up,

the quality drops, and we women are left clutching our emptied wallets

somewhat grief-stricken at the misspent funds at the hairdresser.

I have noticed this, that the first cut is attentive and less expensive,

the second, perhaps the same price, and not quite so great and the

third is accomplished by the same hairdresser who is clearly a thousand

miles away, finishing a cut that she knows well enough to do on 

auto-pilot.

But, oh!  the casual passing of her bill to me, and on seeing the

price having increased 33%, and add the tip, I am momentarily 

speechless, but having spoken of travels to Japan and such, aware

that she knows I must have the money in my pocket somewhere

and I do.

But, it's not worth it to me, this $150 haircut, with tip, I wish her

well, she has her bills, but surely, we women must rise up against 

the industry of the overpriced hairdresser.

Vanity is only worth so much.