June 20, 2016 by The Citron Review
by Kate Vander Wiede
I love them so much I want to put them in a pot, cook them, eat them, just so I can feel close to them, be close to them like we used to be.
Like those months when they curled up in my belly, when they let me grow them, when they didn’t argue or talk back or cry or run into traffic or fall down or get their feelings hurt. They just slept and woke and grew and knew they were safe.
I want them to feel safe again. I want me to feel safe again. They feel so free now, too free, hurt around every corner, eveything about them so capable of being crushed.
I wave as they board the bus, blow them kisses with a smile on my face that grows and grows and wont stop growing. The bus finally rounds the corner and I shove my fist in my mouth and bite down on my fingers until I cant feel them anymore.
I spend the whole day in my car. I can’t leave.
When they come back, fly off the bus and toward me with their cheeks ruddy and hair flying behind them and with smiles on their faces, such big smiles, I put my smile back on and I drive them home and continue to play pretend.
Kate Vander Wiede is currently pursuing a master’s degree in Public Policy and Management in Pittsburgh, PA, where she lives with her wonderful husband. Having previously worked as a journalist, a technical writer and a business analyst, and dabbled in teaching and writing, Kate thinks she’s finally getting closer to knowing what she wants to be “when she grows up.” …Probably.