Peppermint tea reminds me of childhood sick days.
Curtains wide open, door half shut - blankets and cold showers.
A palm on my forehead, my mother's head peaking from the crevice.
Sweaty chest and white flannel - toasted bread and star soup.
Peppermint tea reminds me of cold nights.
Nightrobes and boardgames on the big, round, glass table.
A card game called "families" -
a lingering irony.
Peppermint tea reminds me of growing.
Suitcases packed with tubes filled with it -
care packages arriving on the perfect moment.
Colorful cups and sleepless nights -
hungover mornings and
a wish for a remedy.
A cup on my nightstand, I still wish for a remedy.
A remedy for pain.
A remedy for loss.
My mother's soft hand on my forehead.