WASHINGTON, DC
Vera and Bob move to the city where she grew up.
Bob takes a job doing math and physics research.
By the time their firstborn wobbles while learning
to walk, they expect another baby.
Vera brings David to play with her old friend Jane’s
two small children. After they help them stack blocks,
arranging a home for a toy bear
and a hangar for tiny airplanes,
Vera quietly asks Jane, Do you ever get bored?
Who could ask for more than healthy children?
Seeing Vera’s forehead wrinkle, she adds,
I didn’t like college as much as you did.
Math was a lot harder than what we did in high school.
I got lost in some of my first classes, Vera says.
But you weren’t there to say, “Keep going.” No one was.
More than one teacher said,
“Didn’t you learn this in high school?”
making it sound like I’d never catch up.
Ow! A child trips over a toy truck, wails.
Back home, Vera settles David for a nap,
makes tea, shoves aside clean but unfolded diapers,
a windup duck, a toy tractor. She picks up
the Astrophysical Journal and flips through pages
to an article about the structure of galaxies.
Her face is tear-blotched when Bob comes home.
He asks, Didn’t you have a good time with Jane?
Yes. No. Bob, I’m not an astronomer. I need a PhD.
He lifts her dark hair, kisses her neck, says, I took the job
in Washington knowing there are universities nearby.