grandma was—
juniper and oranges.
wood floors and dark rosewood.
peanut butter toast on a tiny plate.
wheel of fortune.
perfectly set curls.
silk scarves.
manicured lawn.
violets in the window.
collector of Jesus plates.
absent mother.
holder of my hand.
founder at her church.
disappointed in me.
I’m—
peppermint and coffee.
old paper and candlelight.
sourdough torn from the loaf.
bowie and labyrinth.
messy bun.
labradorite necklace.
dead grass.
violets in the window.
tiny rocks in baskets.
devoted to my children.
holder of babies.
founder of women’s group.
afraid i’ll disappoint you.
*55/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day. All photos are mine.
Bridgette Tales 
That’s beautiful.
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Beautiful balance, you two.
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Not disappointed 💙
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This is such a tender and beautifully layered piece. ❤️
What makes it powerful is the way you tell an entire family story through small, sensory details—juniper and oranges, wood floors, peanut butter toast, silk scarves, violets, coffee, sourdough, old paper, candlelight. These aren’t just objects or scents; they become little doors into two different lives.
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Such a beautiful poem. I love how you have drawn portraits through a mélange of imagery. And then those two words in the middle strike straight at the heart: “absent mother.”
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