Today

Today was a silent alarm 
and a late start that resulted
from the betrayal of technology
and the absence of morning sun. 

Today was her backseat cries.
She wanted something different
for breakfast - a meal that was
eaten almost an hour before.

Today was a mile long list
and a deadline that changed
once.  Then twice. And then
ended up where it began.

Today was a change of dinner
plans.  The pasta ignored, and
soup made from autumn's bounty,
honored with salad and bread.

Today was a bath and story
and the pleadings for another drink.
She stalls by asking for the irrelevant
"So...what did you eat for lunch?"

Today was the dinner dishes, packing
lunches and bags for tomorrow's rush.
A few minutes to restore order and then
a few minutes to restore peace.


Today was a mimic of hundreds before
and a preview of thousands to come.  And
yet in it's ordinary everydayness, I find a
sense of myself, a sense of home.