A Quiet Radio,
A Dim-Lit Room
You lay on me and I am your shiny rock
in a world of small pebbles
and I am glad for my chin
just touching your hair
just resting, your head
and I am glad for my scent
just breathing you in
just smelling milk and oil and skin.
You lay on me
koala bear aptitude
pink-cream kid-glove hands
and I am warmed by your body
I am restful in your molding of my shiny-rock body
and I am calmed by your nuzzle and your sigh.
You lay on me
and I wish I could move my head
just to see your sleeping face.
“I know now that everything changes, and it’s usually too quickly.”*
Having children reminds us of the changing nature of ourselves and our world. Before children entered my life, years could go by and I would usually have external events to mark them. Now, years are remembered for my children’s birth or ages, and our experiences together. (And the time before the birth of my first child feels like a thousand years ago!). Their growth seems rapid and shockingly sudden – and my time with them is all the more precious for knowing that.
* © from 'Being Mummy' by Anne‑marie Taplin, published April 2007