A New Day
Eyes closed, sensing first
the warm salt air of San Juan
The scent of jasmine potpourri
now fills my head pleasurably, sensually
A salamander dink, dinks her way
up the white plaster bedroom wall
Baby’s still asleep
Eyes open, I am reminded I had
the whole bed to myself last night
The room is lacquered that antiseptic white
that screams: RENTAL
A crystal hung in the window
catches a sunbeam and pitches it
from ceiling to mirror and onto my bare toes,
and I laugh out loud.
Then I burst into tears.
It’s been years since I woke up smiling,
even though mornings have always
done their best to cheer me up.
Through the tears, I manage a smile –
baby opens the door, climbs on the bed,
pats the vacant pillow and looks at me
like a curly-haired question mark.
“Daddy’s gone for a while, but
we’re gonna be fine, mi nena.”
I take her in my arms and we snuggle on the big bed.
© Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil