Seasons

They’re beginning the walk away.

No longer toddling towards me arms out stretched.

I find myself staring at their backs as they lug their own bags, carry their own loads.

The season of parenting those whose physical needs are great is now over.

Sid makes dinner for us each week more nights than I do.

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Audrey doesn’t need reminders to brush her hair, say her prayers or wear a coat.

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The days of bathing children are finished as Ellery spends as long as she can in tepid water, lathering her hair and singing songs to her babies splashing in the ocean of suds.

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I am supposed to tell you that I am ready for the season to have passed,

that I am embracing this next stage of my life and theirs.

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But in reality, I never thought at 38 that my years of giving birth and nurturing babies would be complete.

Maybe I should have.

There is always an end why shouldn’t mine have been today?

My heart knows the joy I have here in this moment.

The beautiful ladies who fill my days with laughter and tears,

the children that teach me how to be a better person.

And in that I will be grateful.

 

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