Plan B, Part 2

‘Be a model. (or… just look like one)’ is written above a person standing next to a blank contact form. The person has shoulder-length hair and wears a cinched long-sleeve top and dark pants. Their feet are not visible. The contact form is oriented sideways and reads ‘The Barbizon School of Modeling,’ with a New York address and phone number listed. Lines to fill out a name, age, address, phone, city, state, and zip are included. Below this is a person, possibly the same person as the prior image. They sit with their hands clasped on their propped knees. They wear a short top showing their midriff and matching bottoms, possibly a skirt or pair of shorts. Their hair is pulled away from their face and falls behind their back.

Mom won

a modeling contest in high school

for free lessons

at Barbizon Modeling School

in New York City.

Mom was supposed to be

a chic metropolitan model.

Not just some mom

living in the sticks with

three ragamuffin kids

constant static in our hair

and a mustached mate

with movie star looks who

drinks too much

comes home late

doesn’t drink too much

comes home on time

with magic and laughter

and a borrowed pet ferret or

a plump toad saved from the road

and sometimes Dad drinks so much

is so much fun

he forgets to come home at all.

A front view of a toad. Below the toad is a framed piece of embroidery. The alphabet is along the top. A potted plant, two flowers, and four love hearts are below that. The words ‘Hold fast that which is good’ is stitched below them.

But Mom is great at being Mom.

Bakes brown bread as we twirl

to crackling records.

Sets our minds afire for reading.

Everyone is rich at the library!

Sings her bright Jesus songs,

loudly and out of tune

and with all her heart.

Our home is stocked with cats

despite Mom’s wicked allergy:

she reciprocates feline affection

with red, watery eyes.

A cat laying curled in a ball with its eyes closed. Below this is a frontal view of a sitting cat. Below the sitting cat is a cylindrical jar with ‘Ball’ written in cursive and ‘Mason’ in print below that.

A displaced New Yorker,

embracing the quirks

of country life.

She paints and sews

mashes meaty strawberries

into jam

laughs when

the neighbors whisper

about her and Dad being

“those hippies” from New York

slowly tightening the elastic band

on her sarcasm,

sliding acidic asides

beneath her breath.

She shines lemon-scented daylight

into our childhood.

We are without a doubt

the life Mom loves.

But we are not

the life Mom planned.

A drawing on a piece of vertically-lined paper. It depicts an adult and two children. The adult is on the far right of the image and has long shaggy hair. They wear a cropped ruffled top and a short skirt. They have their right arm around the two children. The shorter child is pressed between the adult and the other child. They wear a long t-shirt and their hair is mostly hidden by the other bodies. The child on the left has shoulder-length hair and wears a tank top. They hold a doll with curly hair and a dark t-shirt dress.