... in the morning

This is the final poem in the series of three that I am sharing this week, each poem is about one of my children. This one is about my youngest. If you haven’t had a chance to read, “this is about you”, about my oldest, and, “my man”, about my son, then please take a few minutes and read them now.

I go into your room first, always… in the morning.

That’s how I start the day.

It’s so cold out now and so dark, no sun for a while still.

I look at you, your body lying in a position of complete restfulness… I wonder about your dreams.

I can see you, glowing from the lights reflecting off the butterflies draped across your closet. Your cheeks are pink and full, your nose turned up just so, your lips pouty, your breath is deep and constant.

I can see the baby I used to hold while I did everything that needed to be done because that’s what you do when you have kids. I walked around with you so I could feel your breath and hear your heartbeat and we were one person…

I know a day will come when you read these poems and these stories and you’ll wonder about the mother that you’re looking at and the mother whose words are on the page in front of you and you’ll see that they’re the same and you’ll ask me what I was writing about because you’ll be older and you will see reflections of pain and angst and friendships and evolution and you’ll ask me, “what’s it all about?”

I’ll hesitate, because I’m not sure which parts to tell you and which parts to keep for myself because we should all keep a few things for ourselves so I look at you… a woman who can see into my soul because my soul is your soul and I tell you that I was learning to live.

Then you’ll smile because you understand that, all of it, all of the words scrambled on these pages are me learning to live my life out loud, learning to understand the evolution of us… the complicated beings, learning to know love.

But, right now, I see the lights from the butterflies reflecting across your cheeks and I bend down low to your bed and I hover just above your face so that I can breathe in your breath, our noses touch and your lips curl into a crooked smile. I touch my lips softly to your upturned nose and I whisper… barely making a sound, “mommy loves you”, and your eyes slowly open and you flop your arms around my neck and beg for one more minute and I say okay because I need one more minute too. One more minute to look at you… in the morning.

About these ads