at d park

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I took a swarm of pics yesterday when I was in Branchbrook Park. I was hoping the cherry blossom trees would be in bloom but for the most part they weren’t. So my daughter (she’s 26 and looks as young as the kids she teaches) and I ended up making the shoot about us. Considering that we love to mug for the camera, that wasn’t a disappointing plan B in the slightest. This is just a small portion of the pics we took.DSC03616 - Copy DSC03759 IMG_1284 - Copy DSC03722 DSC03758 IMG_1447 IMG_1386 DSC03764

©A. D. Joyce, 2015

At the Costco Food Court

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At a buck fifty, you won’t find a hot dog
that tastes as good. On one side
of the plastic picnic table topped with a Sabrett umbrella,
I eat mine with a thin line of yellow mustard.
On the other side, Mom’s has the deli mustard and sauerkraut.
“Mom, I’m different now,” I say mid chew,
apropos of nothing but needing to say it then.
I expected incredulity. She often thinks
I say crazy things and mostly I disagree with that
and sometimes I do say crazy things just for the fun of it.
At age fifty plus, I still take pleasure in that.
This time, though, I’m not so sure if what I’m saying is crazy or not.
Sometimes I barely recognize myself. So I look at her hard.
She keeps on chewing and I know she’s thinking
that the steps to our mother/daughter dance have changed.
These days, I call her on bullshit I used to let slide. Even her
mother-guilt has lost its mojo. I have no more buttons to push.
She nods her head in agreement.
“So you think so, too?” I say.
Mommy says, “Yes, but that’s a good thing, right, Pom?”
using the nickname she gave me when I was a little girl.

©A. D. Joyce, 2014