Dinner Party for Two - Laurie Hahn Ganser

I invited my mother to dinner

With some of my closest friends.

She passed the bread

To my friend from the summer

After high school.

The one who occasionally

Followed boys into dark rooms,

Denim shorts undone,

Lips tasting of malt beverage

And “Tell me I’m pretty.”

She made small talk

With my freshman year roommate,

The girl who sat

On plastic and porcelain,

Praying for one line not two,

Who breathed with relief,

Tossed the evidence,

Threw on her peacoat and scarf,

And joined her family

To cut down a Christmas tree.

She split dessert with

My mom friend,

The one who smokes joints

On the porch,

On the deck,

Or on occasion,

Around the kitchen table.

She looked across the room

And claimed to want to chat

With the women

Who harbor secret tears,

Secret lines in their skin,

Secret habits of pinching their sides,

Secret hopes, fears, doubts

That sometimes surface

While silently stirring soup on the stove,

And somehow

She never computed

That there were only two

At this table.

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Laurie Hahn Ganser is a mother, partner, and fierce advocate of the written word. Her professional days are spent championing reading and writing in public schools and supporting educators through curriculum coordination and instructional coaching. Her personal time is spent momming her two children, Lydia and Holden, frequenting indie bookstores, and loving on all of the quirky fun Minneapolis has to offer. Laurie's writing can be found at the Huffington Post, Shakesville, Medium, and Herstry (forthcoming).