Belgian Waffles Part 2 (Daddy's home)

she flips and pats
once more, then serves us
love no one else
can.

I'm still short enough
to swing my legs while
sitting at the kitchen table.
my mom huffs and says, "little
gurls keep their legs closed
in the presence of men and boys."
she was speaking of my brother
and father.
I glanced at the clock
housed inside our stove, it's
green numbers read 10:20,
and I heard my father's voice.

"Morning baby." He kisses my mom
on her cheek, slaps her butt,
then makes his way to the table
to greet danny (my brother) and I.
mom sways over to us, grabs our
plates, and nods to me
as if she was trying to say,
"be nice, ciera."
"Good morning daddy. How are you?"
"Fine ciera. Sorry daddy couldn't be
here to tuck you in last nite,
got stuck at the plant; but I'll
make it up today, later on. How
does ice cream sound?"
"Ice cream sounds good."
He walks past me and over
to danny, kisses his cheek,
and butts heads. Must have been
some sort of man to boy code
my mother and I were unaware of.

Charlotte excuses herself,
picks up her plate, and nods
to daddy. They don't say much
to each other, but daddy kinda
half-way smiles at her to acknowledge
his oldest. We sit and watch daddy
inhale his waffles and bacon;
both cold from waiting on him,
but he doesn't seem to care.
Mom hovers over the sink,
sighs, and wipes her face.

She'll be crying in bed tonite.

©Tremaine L. Loadholt






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Gee thanks for the
©Ra