mom's birthday

This is a verticality of truth:

you love me pouring down and I love you yearning up

which is to say,

both with longing and against gravity

to myself and sometimes outward,

I name that I am not one of those who must cut ties,

who have no choice.

honor that, some:

that non option to engage.

and then look at the loving parents I get instead.

I call it over and over to myself,

this privilege is called family tree pruning,

I get to bring you with me, I GET to.

this lucky toehold of willingness.

who is looking down on who now?

I cannot conceive you outside the desire to lift you up.

My capacity is small, here but these are the things that bring me rage:

the eye-raise to each other across the table when

my new date is jewish and female and "at least she's one of the two"

and your resort week in puerto rico, the easy flight, the drinks by the beach

and, that handing-out and holding on that is the only option for the money you gave me.

that action is your life too, but holds nothing but soft ease, holds nothing hard.

it's a wedge between us, this choice you make and say.

I coach myself: lean in to where you struggle, rachel. lean IN to them.

but yet there I go not calling back,

you see I've been so absent even though its just been days.

sometimes I'm not choosing which branches to let grow. sometimes it's a wall.

and I can lean against it as hard as I want but it stings as I realize I am throwing myself there.

"don't you get tired of acting so righteous"

is not exactly an insult, but no in fact, mom,

its the opposite that's exhausting, the horizontality of knowing

that you've got the right to think you're right

and my brother's sigh when he says its more complicated than that, rachel

and I know deep down I'd crack without your acceptance

unconditional for 25 years now,

even though

I know

you think

I make it so hard.

this is the active life I am remembering gratitude for:

up-stepping

tree climbing

wall-throwing

wedge hinging

it is the process that is where we learn

and the action that lets us yield

to rest

and sleep.