 Credit: M -- Unsplash I don’t want to read Moby Dick, she thought while sitting on her balcony enjoying a cup of hot coffee. It was Saturday morning, and she had a long list of tasks to cross off her to-do list. Sunrays warmed her body, encouraging her to rest. But the to-do list nipped at her like a gadfly.
She had fourteen books left to read from the Western Canon. She had to practice arpeggios to keep up her piano playing. She had to finish watching the last three Academy Award winning movies so she was in the “know.” And that was just the arts. What about that new restaurant downtown? And next month’s looming half-marathon? Not to mention signing up for that work conference to network with other professionals in the industry. There were so many things she had to do on that sunny Saturday morning. Until she realized she didn’t have to do any of them. All she had to do was pay her bills… file taxes… and die. She didn’t have to scratch and claw her way to the top of the corporate ladder. She didn’t have to become the first woman CEO in her field. She didn’t have to do it all before the age of 40, either. She didn’t have to keep up a musical skill she’d never enjoyed. She didn’t have to beat her personal record running twelve-plus miles (she hated running—in fact, she had never felt that runner’s high after finishing a run—it was simply hate, hate, hate, misery, misery, misery, every damn mile). And she certainly didn’t have to read a long, boring book that completely misrepresented an entire species. There was nothing else in this life that she had to do. And as long as she didn’t break the law, she could do whatever she wanted. I’m free, she realized. Besides, it’s not like anyone cared about all she’d accomplished. People would smile and nod, be impressed for a moment, and then move on. What’s it all for? She wondered. What a waste of a life—chasing goals, accomplishing for the sake of accomplishing? And with that, she put her feet up on the balcony, taking another sip of coffee, and closed her eyes. Screw Harold Bloom, she thought with a smile.
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 Liv Bruce - Unsplash There’s no going back once you become a mother
There’s no unseeing every child as your own You cannot bandage your aching heart As you watch a child cry out alone That second glass of wine don’t taste as good now And you’ll never sleep soundly again Local news will keep you up all night You pray keep my babies safe, please Lord, amen There’s no going back once you become a mother In every way it changes you And you wouldn’t wanna be anyone other Than the mama your babies made you Now your body is different, can’t recognize it Gone are the days when you looked your very best What was once tight and firm is now tender, A soft place, a pillow for rest And you can’t stop smiling when you witness A child learn something new And your eyes won’t stay dry when you hear A mama tell the story of her baby’s first breath And you won’t think twice to open your arms wide To hug a child who needs a little extra love There’s no going back once you’re a mother And for that I thank God up above There’s no going back once you become a mother In every way it changes you And you wouldn’t wanna be anyone other Than the mama your babies made you  “You found me!” I shriek, watching you two speedily crawl toward me. I hadn’t been hiding from you, but after watching you play so nicely together, I thought I had a moment to slip away and pour a cup of coffee.
But you found me, and now you raise your arms to say, “Hold me!” I sit on the floor, hugging you on my lap, and I whisper a prayer of thanksgiving. I thank God you found me—that your two tiny little souls found your way to mine. I remember when I held you in my arms, baby boy, as your skin turned the shade of dusk, and you ceased breathing. In a flash, the NICU nurse whisked you away, flicking your heels until you began to cry, your lungs filling with air again. I looked at your tiny little body, only a few days out of mine, but saw your soul from someplace else—you’d always been part of my heart, before the before, and now you’ll always be a part of me. And you, baby girl, I’ll never forget cradling you at the end of a long day, watching my tear drop onto your pink cheeks. “Do you know who I am?” I said to you. “I’m your mama.” But you kept sleeping. I hated leaving you at the hospital those nine nights. I cried into my pillow, wishing for you to be next to me. I hoped your spirit heard me—hoped you felt I was right there next to you. I’m your mama. And I know our souls are connected. You’re both older now, and never far from reach. I worry less and laugh more. We play until the sun goes down: peek-a-boo and hide-and-seek. Sometimes I wonder how I got so lucky; I don’t deserve to call you mine, to be your mother. Patience and warmth were always traits I had to work on, but now with you two, it’s easy. Maybe before I was merely lost. All I know is I’m so glad your souls chose me to be your mother. I’m so glad you found me. |
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