My Mother's Habits {Facebook Deactivation - Day 30}

There are effortless routines and patterns
From my mother
Embedded deep into my memory
Flashes which produce a mixture
Of longing, warmth, ...and guilt
That I remember well
And struggle desperately to imitate

How strange to acknowledge the damage
Of a distraction I entertained
Who along with my natural weakness, stole my ability
To emulate that which was sown deep
And once yielded much contentment

Did we ever think we'd battle distraction
To this magnitude?
There was once caution against the amount
Of advertisements children saw in commercials
Billboards and radio announcements

But those voices pale in comparison
To what we and our children are encouraged to digest and balance now

I'm grappling all the time
With time
This fleeting yet stretching and pliable thing
Given to me to use at my will
In the face of new technologies,
Sometimes the responsibility feels impossible!
A healthy balance always just beyond my reach

For now, I've had to disconnect
But with more disconnection
Comes re-connection to my roots
I'm clawing my way back to mom's habits
That I lived and enjoyed so long ago

To engage with life
Without interruption
The recreation, the resting
The working and creating
The in-between times

The clear space in my head
Long cluttered with matters and events
I could do nothing about

Replaced with space and stillness
Without compulsory interruption

A space to breathe, to be at peace
Sitting with my God, my husband, my children, my friends
My self
Something my mama
Did so well

My Heart

for my little pink Clover

She is seven
Little freckled nose, eyes that laugh
Behind the seriousness with which she surveys the world
Jack-o-latern grin,
Loud laugh and flinging arms and elbows
Into twirls and leaps
And one little heart pierced ear

She has patiently waited.
She's grown three times as old
With each addition to the family
She moved over, out of my arms
She moved over, out of my bed
Away from my feet
Out of my gaze
To make room

Tonight I gathered her into my arms
Dusted off my lap
Folded herself up to fit
She lay her head on me

I tucked a piece of wild, sweet curls
Behind an ear I hadn't seen in a while
This one is unpierced
Filled in smooth after the earring fell out

Heart pierced breathing
There she is
My first baby
I trace her ear, I look in her grey-blue eyes
Baby mine

I choked out, I miss you
She cried too
How have I forgotten to hold her?
Though I rage at time for carrying her away
She carries my pride, my joy,
My heart

Glass

its a schoolday, we have things to do
but play a little longer
i wasn't planning on breaking that glass
but it wasn't my fault ...or at least all my fault
glass perched precariously on a base too small
the others balanced
not knowing behind closed doors the emergency pending
not knowing a cupboard that had been opened hundreds of times before
would be the one time to let the glass fall
the glass broke
i took the brunt
i stayed barefoot in the kitchen sweeping up the remains
yelling at the children to stay back
to go get their shoes on
but i remain barefoot, i can't leave the pile i've patiently swept
can't risk my kids walking in the kitchen
risk them stepping on an un-found piece
even though i've warned them to stay away
thankful for the light
artificial and real
helping me catch the glint of lighted up glass
glass can go anywhere
humorous, almost, to see bits of it stuck in our bananas on the counter
it doesn't belong there
in the moment, you use what you can to contain an accident
i grab a business card among the ruins on the counter
and begin tapping and scraping the crystals into a line
not what i thought i'd be doing
i was just trying to put dishes away
i step on a small piece but it can't penetrate, my skin is tougher there, calloused
but minuscule splinters fell beneath my shirt
too close to places unshielded, most tender
pinpricks hurting and scratching with each movement though try as i might to shake myself free
my daughter wants to dance in the kitchen
in barefeet and ribbons she twirls in because to her blind eye the threat is gone, the accident contained
but i know better
it will take time before one can run freely through this room of the house again
when glass breaks, the scene changes
even after each piece is gone, ground down to fine powder
it will never really disappear
clinging to bristles on our broom
nestled in our grout and tile cracks
we will wear it on our feet, on my knees
as i kneel to sweep up what i can
as i cook and clean in the years to come
as my daughter dances in the kitchen
glass remains

Joy-Full

My heart

Is overrun with children

My house

Is very full indeed

My house 

Is overrun with children

My heart

Is very full indeed