For Mother’s Day, your partner’s mom wants to try out their new kayaks.
You (and everyone else in the county, apparently) go to Nolte State Park.
You carry your kayaks around picnics, frisbees, and dogs,
enter the water next to a man fishing from the shore.
A fish jumps from the water.
It’s quiet after you get a hundred feet away from the swimming area.
Anglers hike around the lake, station themselves on the trail’s offshoots.
You do your best to paddle around their lines.
Your partner’s dad tells you his uncle died.
A fish jumps from the water.
A couple floats on personal inner tubes,
drinks hard seltzer from a cooler on a leash.
Some kids race on the edge of the swimming area.
A woman lounges on a large Lapras floaty.
A fish jumps from the water.
They tell you about how his uncle died,
the person who helped him in his last months,
the cousins who are already calling dibs
on his possessions from across the country.
A fish jumps from the water.
A man sitting on a tree root
asks you which way you’re going,
so he can cast around you.
You point, apologize, start paddling.
A fish jumps from the water.
You get a lesson in executor responsibilities,
California gun laws, the history of a defunct airline.
They summarize their wills,
the lessons they’ve learned.
A fish jumps from the water.
Tag: Aging
wellness feed
chug this shake, copy this routine
build your core
boost your gains
for the perfect physique
get this angle, this lighting
pose your leg like this
tilt your head like that
for the perfect silhouette
read these books, avoid those sites
learn about the world
be an informed citizen
for the perfect intellect
use this cream, this blush
smooth your skin
highlight your cheekbones
for the perfect youthfulness
drink this tea, this coffee
shit your brains out
lose 10 pounds
for the perfect body
Forgotten Mugs
I forgot I made coffee, had to watch it reheat through the perforated grate of my microwave. I saw a mug of Lipton tea spinning in my grandmother’s microwave when she forgot about her tea, after she started starving herself, when she told me, one Sunday morning, the last time she knew my face, “It is Hell to be old and sick.”
You’re Old Now
You realize it when the belt you’ve worn for a decade breaks — the buckle torn through the thin, separated layers. You sigh, lament the trip to Target you’ll have to make to buy a new one before asking yourself why you need one anyway. Because men wear belts? Because your eighth-grade history teacher humiliated one of your classmates who didn’t wear one? Because you always have? Have you just been stuck in a pattern— recessive, repetitive — this whole time? Are you just a shipping container carried by someone else’s freight train?
M. Espinosa 