Mother Evolving

A poem

Photo by Liv Bruce on Unsplash

Those who mean well squawk the refrain—
“The days are long, but the years are short”

They said I would miss it—
little feet and newborn baby smell
nursing in the wee hours with
a tiny hand clutching mine

Tying shoes,
playing tooth fairy,
soothing scary dreams

They were fine times, but I do not wish them back

I rather enjoy these days of my baby boy
suddenly looking like a young man
in a baseball uniform
on a chilly Wednesday in April

And my Amazonian teenage girl
with size 11 feet
who towers over me by four inches
and wants to be a surgeon

And my eldest now a mother too—
thirty-one years old but strangely my original baby
and a new mother all at once

Their six sticky hands, cuddles
bedtime stories, and soiled diapers
have given way to new things

Harry Potter and Boy Scouts,
prom dresses and drivers’ licenses,
marriage and motherhood

I don’t miss their dependence
and am rather enjoying
becoming less needed, more wanted—
listening ear and wisdom purveyor

I am a mother evolving

(2024)