The Many Questions
Some nights as I’m stroking your head, mines full of questions, heart full of blame.
I didn’t play with you enough today, I should have, but I was drowning in things that I had to get done.
I should have prepared more activities for you, read you more books, was the TV on for too long?
Did I yell too much? I really hope you remember the cuddles and laughter over the yelling.
Heart now full of apologies.
I say “No” a lot, maybe too much? “Mummy can’t right now”, I say that a lot too.
Why can’t I just be present? I’m here, you’re here, my mind sometimes elsewhere.
After a really hard day I told my husband I had “checked out”, I didn’t mean it, but I was trying to shorten “I’m so tired, i’m at breaking point and I need a moment”. It didn’t need to be shortened.
And so the little seeds of doubt grow into full bloom as I’m feeding them the, “Did I give you enough?” questions.
I think of what I know to be true.
There is no place I’d rather be than here, even if I don’t feel that way every second of every day.
Driving the long way home doesn’t dull the light in my eyes when I see you.
You’re my thought before everything I do and after but never an afterthought.
I smile just at the thought of you, even in my dreams.
And despite all my questions, my immeasurable love for you is not one of them.
As you drift off, my lingering thought,
I hope you always know that.