by Maren Mecham
I love this day,
the snail’s pace of little children
as they discover this and that.
I’m glad we have nothing on the calendar today.
I love the tender softness of the baby.
I never appreciated it with the first one
or the second one.
I love the way is fat finger
briefly tries to understand
the hole in my sock.
I love the long epic songs
that reveal the inner workings
of the five year old.
The wit, humor and gentle care
of the oldest child
as she shows her little brother
how to ride a wooden stick horse-
this is my paycheck.
The fistful of squished dandelions
melts my heart.
“I picked these for you, Mommy.”
Does he know how timeless and universal those words are?
Someday he won’t bring me such treasures.
Someday I will think my own thoughts as I eat my dinner-
and I will taste my food again.
Maybe that day will never come.
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