just the four of us
the boy with his hair freshly cut and the new gap in his front teeth.
(he bites his hot dog with his head cocked- using as many side-teeth as he can)
the girl has yogurt on her upper lip and continues to unknowingly apply dabs of the purple stuff to her hair-
her curls containing every color of a ripe wheat field at sunset.
and i was stunned. my heart stepping away from the table and seeing something bigger.
a son. growing. growing.
a girl who is following.
a dining room where i fed each of them solid food for the first time-
served countless breakfasts, lunches and suppers.
a place we will soon abandon for unknown walls.
and i can't grasp the moment.
can't put my fingers around.
i had hoped that writing would help me find it- find the few lines that would express the beauty-
the immeasurable beauty.
but my pencil was too thin- the reality too mighty.
i saw wrinkles on my neck yesterday- the beginning of the weakening of my flesh.
i know that there is no running from time-
the moon rises and fills-
each week and month passing and changing.
i know my hope lies in something unshakable.
i do.
but today,
i wanted so badly to freeze
pause
stop all this.
may i never forget that boy's smile
or the girl's curls in the sunlight.
may my dear love-mate and i hold hands, as we greet the moons to come, and rejoice-
rejoice in these lunches.
with cantalope and yogurt-
talk of mammals and books.
can the not-forgetting keep it safe?
can i firmly hold on at all to these lovely, mysterious gifts of moments?
probably not.
but i know there will be more
more to remember
and to give hope.
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