Thinking Of J At Work

I often think about the way
we once were - me
the new mother wonderstruck
by your perfectness.
The arch of your brows,
curve of your lashes,
delicate rosebud toes,
the sweet roundness of
your arms
encircled in gold bracelets.
Your toothless smile,
the touch of your fingers,
smell of your skin
freshly bathed and powdered.
How I fretted the passing
of each magic moment,
knowing there would never be
room enough for memories.
That your smiles would fold
upon one other,the years would
confluence to points in time,
the first word would be swallowed
in the deluge of thousand others.
I would try to save every precious
fragment, gather them around
as they spilled over.
I would mourn my losses,
mourn memory's fickleness.
I braid your hair, dress you
for summer sunscreen and all,
watch you walk down the stairs
sure-footed as only four going on
five can be. You look back and ask
"Aren't you coming, Mommy ?"
You and I are twined in the
soul, J. A step behind
or a continent apart, I will
feel tugged at the heart.
I say to you "I am, baby."