Tuesday, July 19, 2011

When you say nothing at all

toes push, heels rock, we're swinging
and my legs are metronome to the
heartbeat of a quiet afternoon.
neither of us are talking,
just sitting:

push, rock

the clanking of chain against chain
and screw inside of wood
protesting against our weight,
and we're simply sitting
amid the bird-song and each other:

push, rock

and i think, "we're here on a swing
and there is space between us
and he's just two
and i wonder if he knows
how much i love him?"
so i reach over,
caress his fat-creased thighs
and i whisper,
i love you:

push, rock

we're just sitting
and neither of us is talking
and there's space between us
and still looking forward
he reaches over the space and touches my hand:

push, rock


Sarah said...

What a well-loved little one! I love this picture of you loving your boy.

Wandering On Purpose said...

The rhythm of this perfectly mirrors the sound/rhythm of a swing/rocker. I love the tenderness of the touch between mama and toddler. Precious.

Jodi said...

Dang! You're good.

Nancy said...

What Jodi said! I have no idea how to write rhythmically like that. You have such a gift! And, oh, if they only knew how much we loved them! How I long to reach over and offer a tender caress like that. Beautiful, friend!

(Oh, and in answer to your question at my place--yes, I home schooled. I didn't always love it. Haven't been able to write much about that experience yet. I think I need to get some distance)

Anonymous said...

I wonder how many 'mamas' now know that their mamas felt and still feel the same way?