It happened over nine long months
And all at once

It happened in the first moment you breathed
And every moment after

It happened late at night
As I learned your cries
And in the hush of early mornings
As we waited for the world to wake

It happened through every snuggle
Every shh
Every sigh
Every smile

It happened while I rocked you to sleep
While I watched you grow
And while I grew along with you

It happened in a single heartbeat
And in the rhythm we found in the beating of our two hearts

It happens, still
With each new day
Becoming your mama
One day at a time

Let them be little.
Let them be messy
and muddy
and loud.

Let them be silly
and curious
and filled with wonder
at a tiny puddle in a big old world.

Let them be hopeful.
Let them be innocent.
Let them be naive.

Let them be safe enough to ask questions
brave enough to wander off
and loved enough to come home again.

Let them be sweet.
Let them be happy.
Let them be sad.

Just—let them be.

Let them be little.

No one ever talks about
what happens after—

Once the funeral goers leave
and the flowers wilt

When you’ve hung the black dress
back in the closet, out of sight
and fill cardboard boxes
with belongings that no one uses
anymore

No one ever warns you that
till death do us part
is a one-sided promise

And they never prepare you
for how it feels
to be the one who isn’t
gone.

I remember
down to seconds and syllables
the last time

your favorite red flannel
beer on your breath
your bags packed

I remember
someday promises in my ear
and every goodbye,
you swore was the last

On the car ride home
I watched the trees pass
like summer days,
the time between then and now.
We sat in a silence that was
too full to be comfortable

the way it used to be when I knew
that keeping my fingers laced with yours
was enough, and the only promise
you had made
was to love me in your own way.

There's something about flames
climbing one over the other
competing for bragging rights
the sharp smell of smoke
how it settles into sweatshirts
and ponytails, making itself at home
and the girls who come closest to the fire
glad to warm goose bumps on bare arms
dressed in blue jeans and white cotton tees
clothes that never ask
my place or yours?
but instead, welcome you home

He stood
poised
at the top of the stairs

Suspended

An island
in a stream of passersby
not realizing
(or not caring)
that he was interrupting the natural order
of things

Another weirdo

But I turned to see what he was watching
anyway

Stand clear
of the closing doors.

She raced toward the train
all arms and legs
and a tangle of curly black hair

Slipped through the doors
just in time

And when she was gone
so was he.

One morning on your way to work
you pass a man on the street
he smiles at you, dressed in a
striped shirt-khaki pant combination
coined business casual.
At first you don't smile back
but he has kind eyes that crinkle at the corners
crow's feet you note briefly
and tug up the corners of your lips to mirror his
never realizing that later on
as he signs the final line of divorce paper
she will use your striking
if fleeting act of kindness
to find hope.