After the weekend
there are six large pumpkins on the hearth, waiting for the knife
a small tupperware of aaloo chole and one of chicken tikka masala, but no more naan to mop them up
a few bits of sugar cookie, two ghosts and half a pumpkin (never mind, I just finished off the pumpkin)
a drying rack draped with perfectly tea-dyed mummy rags, waiting for a body to bring them to life
a notebook with notes from stake conference, and more determined resolve in my heart
a boy with a blazing temperature and soupy lungs, the dresser next to his bed littered with medicine, nebulizer, thermometer, and drinks with straws
and me, armed with...
a smile from the weekend delights,
a bottle of lysol for all the hard surfaces in my house,
a pair of watchful, vigilant eyes on guard for worsening flu symptoms and new cases in the rest of my darlings,
and a fervent prayer in my heart for protection from the worst of it.