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# Brunch
- URL: https://dianaludwick.com/brunch/
- Published: 2026-05-31T07:51:00.000Z
- Updated: 2026-05-31T07:51:00.000Z
- Description: “Brunch,” an observation of a coming of age where it's okay to keep childhood close. Written Sunday, May 31, poem 151 in a series of 365 poems written by Diana Ludwick in 2026. Photo, "Ladies Who Brunch," by Diana Ludwick (c) 2026.
- Author: Diana Ludwick
- Tags: 2026 Poetry Challenge, Generational, Humor, Poems, Short-form Musings, Brunch, Children, Coloring Books, Coming of Age, Crayons, Friendships, Growing Up, Ice Cream, Ladies, May, Mocktails, Musings, parenting, relationships, Spring, Summer, Sunday, Teens, #Migrated-1792872215677, #wp, #wp-post, #Import 2026-10-24 20:03

She first had elaborate plans  
to celebrate her thirteenth  
involving two cities,   
three parties   
and a convoluted guest list.  
  
We convinced her   
to focus her efforts on one event,  
so she pivoted to   
"a Ladies' Brunch."  
  
We, her parents, exchanged eyes  
over her head,   
as we thought about   
a long table of   
twelve and thirteen-year-olds  
keeping themselves entertained and happy   
without a bouncy house   
or life-sized mouse   
or screaming music and a climbing wall   
or a death dojo of obstacles   
to serve as distraction.  
  
But she was adamant,   
and so we relented.  
  
And that morning, as her table filled  
and guests politely commented on   
her table scape and the weather  
and clasped their hands  
and sat ram rod in their seats  
something felt amiss.  
  
A family member had a Mentos moment,  
got up to excuse herself, and came back  
with an armload of coloring books and crayons.  
The relief on the girls' faces  
as they were each given a choice   
between Bluey or Princess,   
Moana or Dogs.  
  
While they simultaneously blushed,   
and said "I don't care, really,"  
 "no preference," and "well, okay, thank you,"  
it was evident that one girl   
was thrilled to grab the tiaras,   
another gleaming with   
the chance to color in Bingo.  
  
And so, while they ordered pink mocktails   
made with cherries and pineapples ,  
and hibiscus and limonada  
and behaved themselves   
like proper socialites in miniature,  
they colored inside the lines, earnestly, gratefully.  
Once their attention was diffused into art,   
the conversations began,   
like a match to dry wood,   
until the table was   
a healthy roar of cheer and connection  
and the various girls, regardless of their   
newness, strangeness, became fast friends.  
  
Later, once the group relocated  
from the restaurant to the scoop shoppe,   
and had their fill of hot fudge   
and warm cookies   
and melty orbs of birthday cake ice cream,  
they did handstands in the park under the hot sun  
in their Sunday dresses and cartwheel shorts,   
balancing the act of growing up   
and staying young   
in a way that gives hope for the future.