Friday, February 17, 2017

Cono Morning (written fall 2008)

Tender new morning light peeks through my blinds
I hear the familiar thud and padding of feet
Clad in footed princess pajamas
Coming tentatively down the hall

They stop at my door
I pretend to be asleep
Wishing she will give up
And pad her way back to bed

The door cracks open
Through squinted eyes
I see such sweet wispy blond curls
Such hopeful blinking blue eyes
That I can’t help but smile

Her mouth, curled tightly around a shriveled thumb,
Breaks into a grin and her eyes leap with joy
She laughs, dashes for my bed,
Dingy pink blanket dragging behind,
And scrambles up beside me

Snuggling in, she wrinkles her nose in a grin
And nuzzles my face
“I wuv you, Mommy”
I nuzzle back and breathe her hair in

There is a thumping from the hall
A crib rail vigorously thudding back and forth
Then the banging of a sippy cup on the wall
Hannah is delighted, “Emma’s awake!”

I hoist my heavy, pregnant belly out of bed
Hannah runs ahead of me, “I want my juice!”
The banging continues, faster now
“Stop it, Emma!” an annoyed voice calls

Now it is me peeking in their door
Emma is pleased
She smiles, binky dropping from her mouth
And strains to reach me over the crib rail

Naomi rolls in her bed,
Brushes her long, frizzy hair from her face
“Mommy, Emma woke me up”
“Me too” I sigh

Now there are six feet clad in footed jammies
Toddling, thudding eagerly to the kitchen
Jumping in anticipation
As I dole out watered down juice into three sippy cups
They gulp happily

Hannah blinks up at me,
“Mommy is your baby kicking?”
“Not right now”
“I think our baby is nocturnal” Naomi advises
My baby’s kicking,” Hannah beams
Then lifts her shirt, “Wanna feel it?”

I place my hand on her tiny, thin tummy
And pretend to feel a kick, she is satisfied
I gaze at their faces, their eyelashes, chapped cheeks
And try to memorize each detail

Some morning I will wake up alone
It will be a foggy memory
I want this morning to be as crisp and alive then
As it is now

Some morning sleep will be plentiful
But there will be no wrinkled, grinning nose to nuzzle mine
No footed jammies to lead me to the kitchen
Some morning this morning will be a memory

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