6 a.m.

Posted by in Motherhood Project, Poetry, Writing

I became a mother when
my daughter was nearly six

That’s not to say that I
hadn’t had all sorts of
motherly moments…

Moments with my son
who came two years exactly
after my daughter
(A surprise!
because he was a long
forgotten plan.)

Moments of cuddling up
in their cramped little beds
as much for myself
as for them

(We do odd things to feel like mothers)

That sweet milk of infant breath
caressing my chin
the weight of their little bodies
against my chest
All of those “precious moments”

(some, perhaps, too precious)

But still
I hadn’t been a mother.

Not until early mornings
and her long arms
wrapped ridiculously around
my skinny wrist

Her tossing and turning
to get every inch
of her three-foot body
entangled/in-contact
with mine.

The way I’d put myself
into precarious positions
crick in my neck
leaning on an elbow
to have my cheek resting
–just so–
upon her head.

While she and I could both
lie there
looking out the gray window
And rather than be enraptured
in this hallmark
moment of motherhood—
I could glance down
see her eyelashes
fluttering wildly
and wonder,

this person,
this child,

what is on her mind?

For My Daughter (QBA)