It's Still Life

Things the Old Woman Will Tell Her Granddaughter
(a mid-flight manifesto scribbled on a napkin over the Atlantic)

1. 
   how to laugh
   like you mean it—
   and like it’s a secret—
   all at once.
   (the cat tries to copy this.
   it sneezes.
   it’s almost as good.)
2. 
   dandelions cut through seriousness
   better than scissors.
   (also: they stick to cat fur
   like tiny yellow protest signs.)
3. 
   some questions
   answer themselves
   when you kick off your shoes
   and let the grass tickle
   your “i’ll figure it out later”s.
4. 
   four kittens are not chaos—
   they’re joy with extra paws.
   (the neighbour’s cat—still not hers—
   disagrees loudly
   from inside the overhead locker.)
5. 
   you can love a world
   that includes both skinned knees
   and the way morning light
   pools in your palm
   like something too precious
   to spill.

note from 39,000 feet:
if you’re reading this, my girl—
the kittens definitely need
an unwritten rule:
something about how to nap
while technically
still causing trouble.
(you’ll know the words.
i’ll bring the chocolate.)

and when the old woman finally lands in America,
she kisses the girl’s forehead,
and whispers:

next time,
we’re smuggling you
in the overhead locker.