she brings
roasted tomato and basil soup
a panini sandwich
and fresh pineapple
it tastes like friendship
she wants to hear
about my trip
about my kids
about the quiet things
that burden my heart
i pour the tea
we add the sugar
i tiptoe down the hall
to peak at my child
finally sleeping after a restless night
we talk of hope
of hurt
we share stories of baggage
the kind that parents
wrap around your shoulders
when they send you away
from home
we talk of restlessness
all those unanswered questions
that threaten our steps
down uneven pathways
it’s not long enough
never long enough
the moments disappear
and she goes home
the children are due home
the work needs to be done
but for this moment
our bowl of soup
and panini bread
were communion wafers
working in us
redemption
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