Poem: mom and daughter work and grow together in the garden.
“The day is a woman who loves you.”
Real is that this story starts and ends with a boy.
Real is still about love and the idea of being in love.
Real is this love, this life, this boy. Forever.
By Gillian Kessler. He is all elemental, stick and strength, born of my strong body, his muscles rest in mine.
you are tiptoeing
across the threshold of babyhood
your tiny feet
like a creaky staircase
that lives in my heart
I am the old lady at the top
and I sing Tom Petty to you
like a tin can telephone
your voice travels to me
A poem by Danielle Stricklin.
Once upon a time, the weekends were for catch-up. Now, “catch-up” is the red sauce splattering on white jeans as my son sails a french-fried potato into my lap.
A poem by Amanda Buck.