Posts Tagged ‘motherhood’

fieldnotes on motherhood, vol. 9

December 13, 2016

 

like absorbing
a hundred bombs a day —
a thousand —
with the very core
of your being,
into the very synapses
of your soul
                but then later,
at bedtime,
the folding up small
into one another
inhabiting the same space
air
being
returning to the same
home base.

like sneaking past
the monster’s den
on the tippy toes
of your breath,
waiting for the tremble
in the earth
bracing for the roar
                but then after,
the storm past,
light spilling from your smile
from your eyes
melting the memory
of colder hours.

like trying to
tame the lion
again,
and again
knowing that it can’t help the truth
of it’s own wildness,
that it will bite the hand
that feeds it
                but then at night,
your voice in the darkness,
calling out
for solace
for security
for love
calling out for me.

that’s what i’ll tell you
when you ask
what it was like
when you were two.

– a.
december 13, 2016

 

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fieldnotes on motherhood, vol. 8

July 26, 2016

 

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fieldnotes on motherhood, vol. 7

May 20, 2016

 

that moment

(as a mother)

when you realize what you have to do

shed

let go of

doesn’t make it

any easier

to watch you grow up.

 

– a.

may 19, 2016

fieldnotes on motherhood, vol. 5

July 6, 2015

yesterday i looked up
i looked up and saw
that you were no longer my baby
i looked up and saw
that you had become my son

a year has passed,
more,
since you came to be
since we began the slow journey
toward knowing one another
life has come back to reclaim me
a jealous sibling
constantly competing for my time
it builds a wall between me
and the immediateness of our early days
with brick after brick of have-to’s
and i find myself asking:
what were you like back then?
were you really ever so small?

all i have left is a string of vignettes
soft-spun memories of our beginnings
of your tiniest self
golden
and delicate
and fragile to the touch:

the sparrow’s ribs beneath the surface of your torso;
the kiss-kiss purse of your tiny mouth;
the downy pillow of your cheeks;
the push and pull of your parenthetical little feet;
the gentle puff of your breath against my neck;
the soft lisp of your first whispers;
your toothless grin;
your wonder-filled eyes;
the feel of your dimpled fist against my chest;
the weight of your head in the hollow of my arm;
the unruly wisps of your gossamer hair,
standing up like a feather in your cap.

precious (few) details,
let me wear them around the neck of my soul
gather them in the palm of my heart
tattoo them to my mind’s eye
so that I may never forget
the magic of the days
when I was steeped in you.

– a.
july 6, 2015

Wyatt

fieldnotes on motherhood, vol. 3

December 31, 2014

hush now, my love

no need to fuss

and wail as though the end is near

 

i’ll hold you close

and with my kisses

protect you from what it is you fear

 

and if all that love

just isn’t enough

to soothe your tender little heart

 

then come with me

take my advice

the record player’s where i’d start

 

let’s put us on some Etta

some Otis Redding too

we’ll play some Little Walter

find that Muddy Waters groove

 

then dance around the room

and fill our souls up with their tune

let their words soak through our skin

and put us in a lighter mood

 

cuz life can feel real heavy

when you let it in, it’s true

make a tangle of your insides

until you don’t know what to do

 

but if mama learns you anything

before this life is through

it’s that there ain’t no ill

that can’t be cured by the blues

 

– a.

december 31, 2014

fieldnotes on motherhood, vol. 2

July 8, 2014

i’ve come to love the afternoon with you

that softly rounded peak of our budding daily rhythm

it emerges each day from the dull haze of morning

and floats aloft the often jagged edges of the evening hours

suspended time, it seems

defined by the slow shift of sunlight and shadow

against the living room curtains

a safe space for magical moments

and unexpected gifts

like those few precious hours just days ago

when you, my little jumping bean,

my little guppie always in motion,

grew quiet

and dreamy

and, nestling your head against my shoulder,

decided inexplicably —

deliciously —

to rest

your tiny body slumped against mine

wanting nothing

and giving everything

a fleeting eternity of utter surrender and perfect bliss

and i thought:

this is the stuff of true wonder

this, right here, is what will carry you through

– a.

july 8, 2014

the early days: an album

July 3, 2014

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fieldnotes on motherhood, vol. 1

June 9, 2014

remember tonight:

standing on the stoop

just before sundown

bare feet on cool concrete

slight toussle of the evening breeze

whispering of summer

and the stillness

that wrapped the neighborhood

suddenly

blessedly

leaving just you two,

you and your infant son,

to hear the birds in their bedtime banter

and see the sunset suspended

in the shatter of water droplets

dangling like forgotten diamonds

from the bouganvilla

the gentle sway of your dance together

the impossible softness of his arm

and the bare blue of sky

reflected in his eyes

just you two

alone in the universe

of small blessings

– a.

8th of june, 2014