Home Away From Home

Five years in Silicon Valley,
with a Silicon life,
and I forgot where I came from.

Athleisure-attired moms show off wealth
with UPPAbaby strollers—
Peet’s coffee or Stanley in the cup holder.

Even kids’ helmets are name-brand—
we have one of those helmets,
purple and cyan with the matching handle grips.

But one delightfully redneck day
in Oakhurst, California,
reminds me of my Scruffy City.

I take my son thrift shopping.
He splays out in the center
looking at books on the floor

while I run my hand up and down,
savor the pattern and texture
of every item on the racks.

The owner wears too much makeup.
We gab like I’m used to in East Tennessee,
every elevator ride an opportunity for human connection.

We buy a suede jacket, vintage floral dishes,
T-shirt with lyrics from "Rocky Top"
in the shape of Tennessee,

drive to a local park, pass “Good ol’ Things,”
the Statue of Liberty carved out of cedar,
and “The Talking Bear,"

a mini-Gatlinburg of the West
where kitsch and nature collide,
only outside Yosemite, not the Smokies

To get to the playground
we have to cross a wooden footbridge
with weathered boards that creak and sag,

a splinter waiting to happen.
We hold our breath as we walk across,
then stop in the middle to watch the river rushing below.

A boy my son’s age has unkempt curly hair,
wears cowboy boots and dirt-stained clothes,
runs through tall grass as his mom shouts Get your ass back here!

We pick up takeout at the local steakhouse,
line out the door on a Friday night,
with locals and hikers.

The hostess has tanned leather skin,
rivulets that etch a story onto her face,
short salt and pepper hair.

She runs the show
as pimply teenagers with split ends
rush in and out of the kitchen.

Back to the Holiday Inn,
we eat fried chicken and banana pudding
on our bed, staining the bleached-white sheets

with greasy fingers,
our taste buds sing for the familiar,
overly salty, sweet and fatty flavors.

Mara Lovelock’s (she/her) work explores trauma, chronic illness, bisexuality, nature, and motherhood. She facilitates a community mindfulness group and is working on a memoir in verse. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Gnashing Teeth Publishing’s Poem of the Day, Chainmail Poetry, Stanchion’s Elegant Variations, Third Moon Press's anthology The Museum of Human Hearts, COPE MAGAZINE, Unendurable, and Apricot Press. @maralovelockpoetry