She came to me
The youthful agony, turning fast => warmth => gone again
With sibling again.
Playing. Laughing. Joking.
Joyful, cheerful voices.
Background spring noise.
Mom observing all.
The “all worth it” moments.
Some days there are none.
Today has been great.
Despite other parts of the world disintegrating into dust.
Health. Finances. Futures.
This moment is everything. For now.
“Hello” “Hey kids” “Dinner time” “I love you too guys”
Smiles. Waves. Giggles. “I love you too mom”
Six year old held on too long. Ten year old’s taunts.
She reacting with glee.
I reprimand the tantrums.
Who reprimands me?

She’s back.
Shoulder hit tree trunk.
Mom not holding tight, but holding close.
Smelling every piece of the child she can.
Breathe her in deeply.
Knowing this level of connection will end.
Knowing as days, weeks, years pass… all these marvelous, intense, visceral sensations will merely be memories.
How can a mom go from holding, nursing, breathing a child
To a second-long hug and a pat on the back.
No more holding. Touching. Caressing. Embracing.
No more competitions of who can say “No I love you more” faster and faster and faster.
Until both collapse in fits of laughter. Gasping for breath on the floor.

Mom is petrified.
Tears in her eyes.
Scared of the slow but steady withdrawal of her last child. Her baby.
Willing it to slow further. Maybe stop.
Please. Don’t take this away.
She blinks.
A solitary tear rolls down her cheek.
How can she walk the fine line.
Appreciate the beauty of what she has.
Acknowledge, like everything, it will fade away.
Prepare. No. Preparing does not change.
Soak it in mom. Bask in her warmth. Her body. Her smell.
Love her with the ferocity you feel when she is in your arms.
Prepare her for motherhood if that is her path.
Let her absorb your love.
That is what you can do for her.

As always – she comes first.
She has to.
The love of your life.
That perfect being.
That beautiful pain in the ass.
That you crave.
Let me cradle your face.
Graze your cheek with the back of my hand.
Brush my lips across your face.
Whisper in your ear.
Let you know that you are worth it.
You are worth every minute of my time.
You are loved beyond how you can yet comprehend.
I would go through anything to save you.
This pain I feel for the love not yet tempered by your growing and maturing.

Sweet child. You may not remember these specific moments.
Your view of them different than mine from inception.
I hope you feel them.
Somewhere deep inside.
When you need strength.
When you feel alone.
I only realized how much my mother loved me.
In the first days after your sister was born.
There was no way for me to understand before.
Wow. Who knew there could be a love so strong.

I still sneak into your bedroom at night.
Watch as your peaceful self recharges.
Feel like the matter of my body and soul.
Expanding ever so slowly.
Until I am no more.
A mixture of love and despair.

When you wake in the morning my love.
Please still be you.
Give me one more day.
Of you.
Of my love.
My everything.
I’ll try to let you go just a little bit.
Be gentle my love.
Your Momma is scared.
I wont show you that.
I must be your rock.
Your warm cloak.
Your harbor.

I love you.
I love you.
I love you.

One thought on “Too Fast My Love. Too Fast

  1. Oh crap. Tears, big time. This is so perfect for how I’ve been feeling lately. I feel like it’s all going so fast and I can’t get it to slow down, but I don’t know if I want to either. I want to watch them grow but I feel like it’s on high speed and I can’t soak it all in. I have to go have a good cry right now. Thank you for sharing.

    Like

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