The Crossover

Dishes

When the last plate is scrubbed,

the leftovers put up,

and the floor swept clean,

Mom comes into the kitchen.

When is Dad’s doctor appointment? I ask.

Josh, you know I don’t like

you eavesdropping.

I get it from you, Mom, I say.

And she laughs, ’cause she knows

I’m not saying nothing but the truth.

It’s next week.

School’s out next week.

Maybe I can go

with you

to the doctor?

Maybe, she says.

I put the broom down,

wrap my arms around her,

and tell her thank you.

For loving us, and Dad, and

letting us play basketball,

and being the best mother

in the world.

Keep this up, she says, and

you’ll be back on the court

in no time.

Does that mean

I can play in tomorrow’s

playoff game? I ask.

Don’t press your luck, son.

It’s going to take more than a hug.

Now help me dry these dishes.