I can’t gulp her in fast enough.
Mouth wide, I try.
Heart opened to hinge-breaking width, it’s still not enough.
Her lashes grow and each day I watch them. Time stands still for those moments.
Her eyes are almond shapes that turn up at the corners.
They beckon me to a guttural, ancient response of the swooned variety.
And still, I wouldn’t be surprised if her brothers tired of her.
She does get most of the attention around here right now.
Especially when she cried every waking moment those first few months.
But they didn’t then, and they don’t now.
They can’t gulp her in fast enough either.
These boys have grace that is rooted somewhere deep within,
a trail of precious mercy that goes all the way down
where it connects with that part of them that is “other”.
They already know about their Other.
I’ve been marinating a lot lately -
in the truth that these are the years I will long for some day.
I will miss the smell of baby neck
and of sweaty boys
and of night time bubble baths.
Oh but to live and breathe that cliche – “live in the now“.
I trade trite for real, and give it a go.
penned this for Just Write today
take a peek for more essays <3