These are the moments,
I want to line my memory with.
The delicious double chins asleep in car seats.
The way the words, “My Son”, fell from my husband’s lips like they always belonged.
The first time my eldest translated for my youngest.
How she tucks her hair behind her ears.
How he pulls up his sleeves when he’s hot, when did he work out such a simple yet amazing thing?
That freckle.
The smell of their rooms.
How she used to feed and play with my hair.
His lashes.
When they sing a song.
My mind lingers here and not on the photos with numbered cards.
But the arms of my memory can only hold so much.
These are the moments.
Don’t let me forget.
Don’t let me forget.
Don’t let me forget.