Sometimes I stare at you and already see the outline of the man you’re going to be.
Each beautiful and challenging version of you filling those spaces.
It’s all getting a bit quick now, all of a sudden I don’t know if those curls will return.
Your legs even hang over the couch a bit now.
The baby swing at the park seems awkward.
I want to remember all of you, because I’m so worried I’ll forget.
I’m so quick to wipe away those hand prints on the window.
So quick to hurry you when you’re collecting rocks on our walk.
So quick.
Even your expressions are getting older, they don’t catch you by surprise anymore. Some are learnt, even borrowed.
I’ve wished away hard days and I hate that I’ve wished away anything with you in it.
Is this how motherhood works?
Be still my heart.
But get me through?
It’s 3am and I’m carving out your face in my mind, even though it’s dark and the light creeping under the door is calling.
As I reach it I hear a soft “Mummy come back”.
Oh the irony that one day all I’ll wish for is for you to come back to me.
“Don’t worry, it won’t always be this way”, is on repeat in my head.
Maybe a never truer word has been said.
~
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