Wednesday, March 23, 2011
when I heard him coughing
with that terrible croupy bark I fear.
(We were just talking yesterday, as we drove to school how he hasn't missed a day-
it was a jinx.)
I put him in my bed,
brought juice and toast,
filled the humidifier, the diffuser.
Eucalyptus rubs on chest and back and feet.
Nurturing those little ones comes
But I'm finding that these children of mine
who have passed me in height
still need mothering.
"Can you come pick me up, Mom?"
Earache and sinus infection
I give and he takes, willingly,
remedies, juice, antibiotics.
A mother's concern and
love made visible.
Waiting for me
while talking on the phone
to her dad, a judge at
the state science fair,
"Can I talk to you, Mom?"
Her heart opens.
I give advice. She listens.
While I make them their dinner
her sister, let down
such a huge disappointment.
I reassure. I stroke her hair later
in the quiet of the bedroom.
"Things will work out. Do the best
Now, tonight. Long talk and sharing over
Living in the moment. This is now.
Plans, hopes, conquering
He needs me to just listen.
That I'm here
To be needed.
To nurse, to nurture, to listen, to touch, to talk.