Mama by Rebecca Kahlsdorf

I am three years old
We are rocking in a brown recliner
a lock of your hair
between my thumb and forefinger
I like the sound the strands make
when I rub them
back and forth
twisting on
the pads of my tiny hands

Four years
blowing in your ear
to make you laugh
You sing me sad lullabies
about babies lost in the woods
and pretty horses
Your voice is soft
and close

Five years
I am in your arms
My feet dangling to your knees
You smell like White Shoulders perfume
I am safely nuzzled in your neck

Safest here

I am twenty-eight

My six year old
calms himself
by holding a pinch of skin
on my neck
between his thumb and forefinger
He blows in my ear
to make me laugh

My daughter
cries for me
having hurt herself
doing something I warned her
not to

I summon the tenderness
of your voice
folding her into my arms

I want her to be
safest here

My aching arms
have finally rocked
this precious baby to sleep

I call upon my memory
Find you in your perfect gentleness
and lay him down
slowly
peacefully
moving just the way
I imagine
you would
Mama

Just the way you would.