Like cat or baby
sitting on our lap,
and how often we have to pee
or grab the kettle
but we share that moment with our heart and our head
and we sit still.
We don’t get up
because to disturb the beauty
would be oh so unsatisfying.
“Can you wind message me?”
he asked, with pre-drip eyes.
I was leaving, he knew
at the next sunrise.
I smiled so softly
even teddy bears would be proud,
as I blundered on a “yes “,
a “for sure “; to him this I vowed.
And so I would kiss the air
every evening and day,
wipe my miss tears on feathers
“I love you “ I‘d say.
to have the leaves wiggle back,
a grin on my cheekbones,
two feet on one track.
It wasn’t long after,
when the journey was done,
he smiled a thank you
“for the whispers “ dear Mom.
Candy coated sugar kings,
we tell ourselves our own jokes
by looking in the mirror.
Would I rather be tin man
instead of feeling these highs and lows?
Maybe I just sit on my gold chair
alittle longer each time,
waiting out the anticipation
of falling into mud again.
Is happiness more for the good people?
I like you so much it’s pretty well love.
Waking up before son, but not before sun- she can’t wake if she’s never slept.
It’s nice for the land and animals to catch what she touches before I do.
I go to welcome her a few times a year. I think I want it to be more; she always tells me she appreciates it when I appreciate her.
Just to hear the train whistle and the morning birds caw their way through a gossiping cluster, I sit awake in the middle of the week.
I need to get still so I can be better.
I need to breath deeper so I can locate patience.
I need to enter my conscious before I access my vocals.
People like fire for roasting hot dogs and marshmallows, they even like it for passion and direction. For motivation and drive.
Not for the flare in the eyes or the tone of the sound. Not when flames mean the lash and the scold. You end up burning your own feet.
So sun, I know you’re hot but can you help me cool my insides.
So son, I know you’re seven, but can you help me be five.
There were no fires there. There were no fires then.
Kids will gravitate towards the parent that doesn’t overreact.
If I broke a dish, I would most always go to my Mom to tell her instead of my Dad.
If I crashed the four wheeler into a tree, I would hope my Dad wouldn’t see it and pretend it didn’t happen. The sneaking around and lying became a way just because I was too afraid to admit the truth to someone that would yell at me and make me feel awful for whatever happened. Things that were just accidents. As a child the answer was easy. I didn’t need to put myself through something bad when I could just avoid it by not revealing.
I make mistakes okay. My son knows if he spills a box of nuts on the ground, he doesn’t need to hide it from me. He tells me when he’s ripped his pants or broke his remote control car. When he gets older, I’ll want him to feel he can come to me with problems or issues that maybe I won’t be too happy about, but I won’t flare up and put up walls where embrace and compassion are all he needs.
“My nose is broken when it’s stuffed up. “
“Mom, I have another ask. “
Me: “The moon is very far away. ”
” No it’s not. We just need a bunch of ladders.”
” Did you cut your blood off?” ( referring to a cut on my leg )
“Santa is 68 kilometers years old. “
“Can Santa see through the roof?”
“Did you put it through the dryer?” ( referring to pan friend ham )
Limousine is “limonose”
Peanut Butter is “peener butter “
” We are hearts, so we hurt.”
” There is sun in my body that melts it.” ( Referring to chocolate he just ate )
” I wonder,
if you could choose how to miss me, how would you? “
” I wouldn’t. ‘Cause I’d have you.”
To an over easy egg sandwich. ” Yellow, stay in there!”
“How does the sun breathe? “
” Why is my arm attatched to me?”
Me- ” I’m going to go to the doctors and he’s going to take this freckle off.”
” Then he will put back on a new one?”
Me- ” I’m going to lay here to get brown from the sun. “
” But the sun is not brown. “
Me- ” That fish has lost one eye!”
” He can find it?”
” Mayme if we put tomatoe soup on this plant, it will grow a tomatoe!”
( Days later, it totally did ( Go Mom! )and he didn’t touch it- afraid it was going to break )
” Can butterflies talk? ‘Cause I don’t hear their voices’.
He sees the blood in the toilet from my period and asks, ” Momma, is your heart broken?”
I have shown my three year old son this morning, pictures of my pregnant belly. The following are some of his comments/questions.
“Who put me there?”
“How’d I get out?”
” I comed out?”
“What size am I now?” ( I have pictures each week of what size of fruit he was. )
“I want to go back in”, as he proceeds to push his head into my stomach.