Katie Hillesland

Groundhog Day

"Groundhog Day "
Chalk Pastel on Board
29 X 23

In my case, my parents and home balanced my growth. While I rapidly flowered, mingled, and sponged new thoughts, my parents grew older and settled deeper into their roots, like an old man in a Lazy-Boy. For me, their ancient knowledge and spiritual contentment grounded my flowering positively. Every morning is, "Groundhog Day." I turn right out of my chameleon room and wake up to their room of Nirvana arranged in the same way with the mattress on the floor facing the blue glow of the insomniac TV in front of the tapestry created by my grandmother. They read the newspaper side by side with their tray of orange juice, brown buttered toast, coffee with ice cream and honey, and cereal bowl accompanied by a glass measuring cup of blue skim milk. Even our cat, Rocky, joins in on, "Groundhog Day," breakfast. He intrudes by stepping on my Mom's newspaper and gets, "Shooed!" away until he patiently waits for his blue skim milk only awarded after a spinning vertical carousel "dance" my Mom patronizes in her oversized green terrycloth robe. Every morning Mom complains because Dad accumulates his "grubby" newspapers in the middle of the white flowered comforter. I always wondered why they never got gray sheets.
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