So there is this thing I do which every parent does when they are out with their children.
We hold them.
If not in our arms, then in our consciousness.
I am still new to five children. Me with five invisible threads connecting/pulling/coercing me in their direction.
Holding them tight or loosening the grip. Giving a look, scrunching my nose, shrugging my shoulders.
It is all part of my web.
This Saturday was a safe space to practice.
Our day began early and by 3.00pm, I just didn’t think I would make it much longer.
But I did. i will admit to half-weeping before dragging through a hot chocolate and tea break
In the face of umpteen trips to the bathroom/diaper changing on the fly/the stark reminder that we have adolescence rising,
I muddled through.
The weight of an infant on my arm and the weight of an 11 year old on my heart.
p.s. picked up Dear Mother, Dear Daughter: Poems for Young People by Jane Yolen and her daughter, Heidi Stemple. A call and response book of poems. Very perfect for us.
….Writing a poem about a problem that you’re having allows you
to break down the emotion into small enough parts so you can deal with it….
-from the Introduction