A summer Thursday, and I'm at work.
It's past nine, so I'm ready
to get the update from the homefront.
"Have you emptied the dishes?" I text.
"Yah" She texts back.
"Prove it." I type.
I have no room
for her empty words anymore,
not after Popover Gate.
She sends a photo of the clean, empty appliance.
"Great!" I reply. "What about the laundry?"
A few minutes go by,
then another photo,
without words,
as reply.
An empty wash basin gleams up at me.
"Thank you!" I gush back.
"What about your clothes,
have you folded them and put them away?"
I am probably trying my luck at this point.
The phone screen goes dark.
Ten minutes later, in comes another silent photo:
The bottom of an empty plastic laundry basket,
a lone wool dryer ball wedged at the corner.
These are love notes
between Teen and Mom
on a Thursday
in Summer.
I'll take them.
Proof of Chores, Proof of life,
possibly proof of love.
