There was a glass sitting on the table by the bed you used to sleep in. You haven’t slept there since April 10, 2022. The kids brought it to me because they didn’t know why it was there. I put it in the sink to wash. I still haven’t. I rinsed out the remnants of whatever beverage you had- probably orange juice for your blood sugar, but there on the rim was a kiss left by your lipstick. Part of you that I can hold on to. Never wash away, never fade, never gone. I put it on a high shelf hidden away from everyone else. One day, someone will find it and think I didn’t know how to properly wash dishes. They’ll either throw it out, or scrub it away. But I won’t. I can’t. To others it’s just a dirty glass, but to me, it’s the last goodnight kiss I’ll ever get from my mom.

Copyright © Kelly Hobbs 2023