We Sit

The boy in his man disguise
grey hair, blossoming pot belly
at the head of the table.

The baby, almost 30
eyes still too innocent for mascara, cross legged
catty corner from him.

And me, the middle one
looking younger than I sound, feeling older than I am.
across from her.

Going back.
To the house in Elmore
Was it white or yellow?
Bright--you stepped on a nail there.

Then to Arkansas
With a bathroom under the stairs
where we would snoop on the adults.

Up to Cass Lake
When the baby came and you spent the night
fighting sleep, protecting me.

In Jordan
The big picture window to the world
and the sand hill where we played.

From there to here
The man looking at the boy
The woman comforting the baby
And me still flailing in between.