Babies grow
(they were my “push presents” in the 80's).
Time goes on
Days into years.
-
Constant yelps and demands
Turn into (sometimes) calls and (sometimes) cards
And (usually) texts sent my way
With the seasons.
-
Daily schedules
Appointments, practices, plays, and performances.
Stop.
Time is mine now.
They’re on their own.
-
Not down the hall.
I’m no longer listening for the door.
Rooms are empty.
I see their lifeline now on my timeline.
-
Towels remain dry
The brush and comb remain mine on my dresser.
Fading photos on my fridge
Show me their long ago faces.
-
Getting dressed each day
I am reminded when they were just mine.
My body bears still
The indelible marks of Mother.
-
Parenting is hard, Mommying is tricky.
Trying to remember my Mother is even harder.
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You can also find me on Medium, where this poem first appeared.
About the Creator
Judey Kalchik
It's my time to find and use my voice.
Poetry, short stories, memories, and a lot of things I think and wish I'd known a long time ago.
You can also find me on Medium
And please follow me on Threads, too!
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