Broken Lips

- a reflexion -

Dry hands 

Patas de gallina around the eyes.

I’m far from forty, closer to fifty

And I have three young kids

Eleven, eight and three.

Every morning, 

after the recurrent nightmare where i’m late to work, and unprepared.

I wake.

And run…

Get dress, fold some laundry

Wake up the kids with a kiss and a yell.

My house is a mess

The kitten litter smells like hell.

“Arriba bebés” followed by a “coño levántate”

Down in the kitchen

Packing lunches for all

Pasta, sandwich or sandwich or pasta

Baby carrots and a manzana.

“Sit down, eat, put the homework folder away,

Sit down, do you have your laptop?,

Permit for field trip, book, papel, violín...

Then comes la caca…

They always have to go poop when is time to go out the door.

We get out the door.

We make it to school and to work and to nursery and we disappear in other stories.

And then there is peace… And then…

I MISS THEM!

Dry lips

Dry hands 

Patas de gallina around the eyes.

I’m far from forty, closer to fifty

And I have three young kids

Eleven, eight and three.

They are my everything.

Los amo más que el universo.

MUA