THE BEST OF TIMES

Misty-eyed mother stares out of a bay window

absorbed by passers-by awaiting another very

long day, remembering how brilliant morning

sun used to be jump-starting the chaotic family

day.

The aroma of Medaglia-D'oro coffee and burnt toast,

cranky kids taunted each other as she slapped

together lunch for sleepy-eyed dawdlers who

got marched off to school, a reluctant caravan

loaded with packs on their backs as she danced

the huckle-buck or twirled around a hula-hoop

doing the twist, launching their day with an

inspired send-off.

Father always late for work, gulping coffee,

running like a run-away kangaroo for the

bus, shoes untied, hair not combed, shirt

flapping in the wind.

Moved by the memory of standing in front

of a stack of dirty dishes, smiling to herself,

knowing that was the best of times.

Milton P. Ehrlich