The cries continue from the backseat, each one pierces my heart deeper, each one adds 5 minutes to our journey. It’s moments before we turn on each other because, how can you be so calm? And why am I so stressed?
Drive Faster.
Slow down.
I miss you.
We go to bed at different times, but our shadows grow long together at night. We take turns wandering down the hallway, we compare who needs sleep the most, who needs a shower the most.
I’m tired.
We’re tired.
I miss you.
Look at the baby, see the curls, I catch your eye and together we smile. The inventory of the day swirls in my head and remembering to hug you is buried under it all.
I’ve never felt more me, and so incredibly different.
It’s us.
It’s still us.
I miss you.
Celebrate the firsts, feel heavy over the lasts, smile at strangers at the café when the babbling begins, smile in the photos, smile but remember the blue, remember the fire I spat, the forgotten kisses.
A leave of absence
A slow return
I miss you.
We laugh in the day, stay up at night nursing temperatures and sickness, I say goodbye to you in my dressing gown, screenshot more recipes I probably won’t make. We have never loved so hard as ‘Mum’ or ‘Dad’.
It suits you, It suits us.
But why did no one tell us,
I’d miss you.
There isn’t much time for each other, There are still no lavish gestures, just small offerings of morning coffee, me playing you a new song I know you will like. You take the monitor, I take your hand. How we have grown so strong in this fragile season.
I should tell you, this is enough right now. It has to be.
You hold me.
You know me.
I love you.
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