Poem: My Heavenly Mothers Watch Me on TV

Who knew angels / could be so rowdy?

My Heavenly Mothers Watch Me on TV

“Did you see that?” They say to each other, “She inherited my good taste.” 

They gather, weekly, on the dot
to gossip and giggle from their heavenly floral chairs,
Knitting needles in hand,
Freshly-baked bread cooling on the counters

They have turned the dial just so on the old TV 
to see my life play out in real-time.

Yes, heaven might have 
The newest and smoothest gadgets
But these ladies live for the nostalgia

“She’s a good one,” they say to each other, “Look at her go!" 

They laugh at my missteps like first-time parents in awe of a toddling baby

These mothers before me, 
put up banners in celebration
when I voice an opinion,
change my mind,
or hold my ground.
They take shots each time I kiss a boy they don’t like,
And laugh and laugh in drunken joy

Who knew angels
Could be so rowdy?
They boo and banter and shout at the screen
And tearfully embrace 
when I turn my face 

up towards the sky

“She’s getting it,” they say.

And when the program pauses on a cliffhanger,
(as it often does)
they collectively sigh
and wipe happy tears from their eyes
because I am willing to step, all on my own. 

May we allow ourselves to grow,

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