welcome to the danger zone

The Last Episode of Hoarders (or What I Find Cleaning My House) (#2)

Okay, for the record, something is seriously, wrong with me. I have done some cleaning on three of the last four days. The only reason it wasn’t four of four was because someone filled a large glass with pumpkin vodka and ginger ale, forced me to drink it, and then put a pillow under my head when I was watching TV and next thing I knew I’d been asleep for hours. Probably roofied.

I raise the issue of cleaning because I ran across some poetry I’d written 13 years ago or so, and one in particular was about Andy. For all the stress and drama and anxiety my son causes me, he has been without question my biggest joy. There is no one who can make me laugh as hard as he can, so hard that I lose my breath and get dizzy. (okay, there was that one time in grad school when that lady wore a poncho, laid a blanket on the floor and made us sit in a circle around her while she sang row row row your boat in class to demonstrate her connection to magical realism. I had to leave the classroom for 10 minutes to regain my composure, but that was a unique set of circumstances.) Anyway, I stood outside talking to Andy today before he went to work, and I caught a glimpse of that little boy who was always up to something, and I saw the young man he’s become, shiny eyes and all, and yep, I am pretty sure I did okay with him. But I thought it was time to share the poem. I think some of you may have read it before, but it is still something that immediately takes back to the day I wrote it. He was 8. Every time I read this poem I can picture the exact moment in time that inspired me to write it. So, if you have a little in your life now, I encourage you to write something about them, capture some moment, because going back to that time reminded me how much joy my little monster brought to every day, and everyone should have that.

For Andy, Who Will Leave Me One Day…

man-cub, little boy-man

glittering-gold hearted and brave

gathering me snuggles and smiles

sparkling in a flurry of rainbows and chocolate smudges

bubbling with joy

rumbling with love

dirty face and dirty hands

shining with the brightest smile

I watch you dream

sleep-face like my newborn babe

now grown too soon, so fast

so wise

my little balloon child

bouncing merrily in a sky so blue

my soul aches watching you

some day you leave,

like a string slipping through my fingers

I’ll clutch but you’ll drift away

grown

counting moments now

like breaths when you first arrived

fragile baby now wild man-child

I reach out to hold your hand

too soon you’ll soar out of sight

a tiny dot

in the wide open sky.

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