We were in the middle of a game of Charades
on the same team, standing side by side, acting out two people riding in a bus on a bumpy road, up, down, up, down, and then I felt her body falling, to her knees, then the floor,
silently and softly onto the carpet
no noise or exclamation because those are the rules of that game

You never know what letters you will get
we all know that’s part of the challenge
nobody expected M-O-M and A-L-S
to show up like the Scrabble tile shuffle from hell

Can someone just be bluffing please and say remove your sunglasses that was just a practice round,
here is a new hand, a new deal

My kids keep asking me to play with them
name the game they say
they crave the laughter, the competition, the connection with popcorn and sparkly water and chocolate

Grief tells me to ask them to leave me alone
I cannot play with you now
My heart is in more pieces than your puzzle there and has forgotten any next moves

But a voice I vaguely recognize tells me what to do
pick up the dice, make the snacks, pass those pigs, “uno!” who needs bricks? wheat? sheep?
And, wait, I think I own that railroad

Same voice reminds that the ticking of the timer doesn’t go on forever sooner or later there’s an empty half of an hourglass or an obnoxious buzz announcing the end of a turn
the last round has been played and before you know it, time is up

deal me in and hold onto your hats, little ones,
‘cuz (blowing on dice) “momma needs a new pair of shoes”

Kimberly Braunschneider is a SAHM of five kids ages 6-16. Reading, writing, walking, and being outside with her family give her energy to get through each day.