Rebekah Jensen on 100 Poems

[Rebekah Jensen]

This is a gap year:

a tidy tale I can tell

that I mostly believe

and I think you do, too.

For those who want

more, there is the

gilded version:

your dad’s promised

skoolie adventure,

a tall tale in my opinion,

but one I tell

for you.

.

This is a gap two years,

I say later, and laugh

at my little joke.

If people really want

to know, and most don’t,

I tell them about the

punched-out window and

dead starter, how when

the skoolie was yours

you swept up the glass

and bounced back and forth

between the same two

rest areas opposite I-5,

waiting for news,

living within view of

going places.

.

Your dad got his liver

and I stopped plugging

college applications.

You moved into your car

and drove to Santa Cruz,

where you live for pennies,

skate everywhere,

say bless to strangers,

meet 30 dogs a day,

and maybe look uphill

at the school you got into

three years ago with your 1450,

and maybe not, and I don’t

call anything a gap

anymore, I just say

my son

is making his way.

[Lisa Jensen]

The ending is so beautiful - like a hug for that amazing and unconventional “kid” of yours, but also a hug so big it pulls your reader into it as well. We’re all just making our way. ❤️

[Keith Aron]

This really paints just a vivid and visceral emotional portrait for us thanks to the details you've included. Poignant and generous. Yes...we are all just making our way. I have been living a sort of "gap life" myself. Your son's sweet spirit shines even in these few words. Bless to him <3

[Rebekah Jensen]

Thank you, Keith. First comment on one of my poems that's made me cry. Bless to you, too!

[A. Wilder Westgate]

This is so beautiful, Rebekah. The ending feels like a big sigh of relief.