Motherhood right now is soil on fingers, worms on palms, and hands guiding them from a sea of park rain to an untouched lawn. It is one too many conversations about the same thing on a different day, but we do it anyway, because that’s where we are right now. Motherhood right now is walks to school with mini dolphin bamboo hoops, hand in hand with vibrant hats and disposable masks for five full days.
Motherhood right now is short curly hair with golden tips, uneven tan lines, rainy days watching theater take center stage again. Oh, how they move on ice, in the rain, and with t-shirts. Motherhood right now is old photos and old friends, sleepover dates and fresh tears.
Motherhood right now is Monday morning news cycles, shouting SHIT. Specifically, I am tired of this shit. It is, the sound of mama, being called when George was 46 and when Daunte was 20. 26 years and my boy is six. 20 years. 40 years. A fake bill and an air freshener. There is always simply, mama, mother, or mommy before they leave, as they always do, as you imagine them to say much after you are gone.
Motherhood right now is rainy grey days, waiting to hear them bust through the door and shout and laugh about it all. It is the fingertip eagerness to cuddle them this evening, and to hear their whispers about their day. Motherhood right now is simply them and me, and a whole lot of everything else.
How’s it on your end?
