As young as I look,

I am growing faster than her. 

[30 years younger]

is the [age gap] they say.

Her hands much larger than mine, 

used to pick out knots from my hair.

Now my hands, 

picking out her grays. 

The same woman who would water down 

my orange juice,

lets me drink it whenever I please.

In a house 

once me and her, 

now with the addition of 2 little ones.

No more days do I spend crying to her, 

that I have to leave for school. 

I haven't needed help on homework 

the way I did as a kid.

I’m following proudly in her footsteps; 

my shadow much taller than hers, though. 

The strong woman who raised me, 

raising me to leave her. 

In less than a year, I won't hear her showers

in the early morning 

and crawl into her still

warm bed 

and beg to sleep a few more hours.