Love Times Two

November 28, 2011
I am ah-daw
because it takes more than two
white pearl teeth to scream Aunt Dawn.
And 8-months old is too young
To annunciate Godmother,
Best friend,
Or second Mom.

Every night their cries sprung me out of chairs,
and off cold hardwood floors
to their cradle.
When they cried together,
It was a flock of hungry seagulls.

Cradle bars
doubled as my pillow,
for resting and waiting.
I was the first responder,
whenever Zach’s aqua rubber soothie popped out.
He hadn’t quite become one with his tongue.

I paced along 3 a.m. living room streets,
Bouncing Hayden to made up lullabies-
Rock-a-by-baby sounded too threatening.
I prepare gourmet bottles,
Every two hours,
And served them in a juggler’s mentality.

I witnessed their firsts.
At 2-months Hayden rolled,
cold and furious after bath.
They said their first word the same day
“mama.”
September. Zach pulled himself up
on the brown couch cushion.
Today he let go for thirty seconds,
before his chunky dimpled legs gave way.

I know their story.
I could write two huge books
for you to study.
Hayden knows 15 words,
and two simple sentences.
The Very Hungry Caterpillar,
is his favorite book.
He can’t use the Zebra bottle,
because he stops drinking to talk to the zebra.
Cardboard books. Grasshopper. Newborn shoe.
And squeaky blue bunny,
all top his playtime list.

Zach can throw a purple ball with his feet,
he hits a drum with a gummy smile,
and plays the piano with his feet.
Angel statues and crosses mesmerize him,
his hands flap,
and eye light up- bright blue.

Hayden takes his brothers toys,
and Zachery retaliates with hair pulling-
but I've watched them swap nukies,
hold each others hand,
and today exchange gentle cheek kisses.
And last week Hayden saw a 6-year-old crying,
so he stopped bouncing,
leaned in
and asked “what?” softly.

In the past 8-months,
I’ve learned what school can’t teach.
I can sing the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse theme,
do the hotdog dance,
feed two baby’s at once,
and catch a naked baby crawling away
from his diaper change.

I found out
that hair in a pony tail
still is no match
for palms of tiny hands.
I can say with all certainty,
that slobbery nephew kisses
are the best in existence.
Baby smiles, giggles, waves, and hugs
are legal drugs
to heal rough days and dull pain.

Now I know what it feels like,
to love someone so much it hurts.
I would do anything and everything
for the boys who changed my life.
This time there’s nothing I can do.

It’s a new kind of hurt,
full of fear and rage,
mixed with tears
and hidden behind a painful
lump lodged in my throat.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback