let's run

It's Monday morning,
bright yellow.
Squeals and
one more underdog.
She learns to pump for herself.
It's a warm day in January
here in the Midwest,
and my hands look like my mom's,
dry and veiny but I like them.
My daughter's hands look chubby and new.

Let's hold them and run for the car.
I'll race you.
She kicks it into high gear,
hilarious.
Our cheeks are pink,
we eat raisins in the car.