The Daily Post prompt is: Guest
She never feels like a guest,
always looking for something to do,
hands itching to help carry,
butter bread, serve the pasta.
She’s the kind who sits on the edge of her chair,
near the door;
ready to take the child to the toilet
or to be sick
or to play in the garden;
to feed the cat, pet the dog.
She eyes the kitchen constantly,
wondering about extra plates,
and where they keep the knives and forks.
Just in case.
She folds and unfolds her napkin,
unwilling to set it in her lap,
as if that small gesture pins her to her seat
and the role others have defined for her,
defuses her potential for running around after people and things,
as if by sitting and preparing to eat,
she has become just a guest.