Cold Today

You, dimpled, young, pretty, say,
I don’t want kids. Never, uh uh.

I understand that.
I’ve been there.
No way, Jose.

When one came to me,
completely uninvited,
I closed the door.
You have to do that sometimes.

And now, with two boys,
rampaging, rollicking, and gorgeous,
under my belt—
but not under my thumb,
no, it’s quite the contrary—
I look across that great divide,
the chasm of before and after kids,
and I’m happy I’m on this side of it.

There are so many things I want to say to you
about having children, about becoming a mother.
How your body transforms,
how your mind expands,
how your relationship to their father irrevocably changes,
of the journey of fear and mystery and delight.

It is so many things, and mostly,
it is all, one hundred percent,
about love.

I’ve swum naked in a warm ocean of bio-luminescence,
tracked a comet in the desert,
rode a train across this vast country,
learned the geography of north America
by tracing its maplines with the wheels of a bicycle.
I’ve been to the stars, cast spells, manifested magic,
become entirely lost, surrendered, and come home again.
I’ve fallen in and out of love, hoped for better, accepted the worst.
I’ve made friends and enemies, tempted fate, opened my heart, erased my mind.

All of that was fun, and it was just the beginning. The lead up. For the kind of life and love I discovered when I met my sons. And not to say that was the end, oh no. Because when I told Andy that I thought romantic love pales in comparison to love of/for children, he replied like this: "I hope that two people can have that much love between them too."

That made me stop. And listen. And allow it in.

So, yeah, life with kids is different.
It took me years to adjust. Let go. Grow up.
But hey, every day is an adventure. Every minute a pleasure.
Every second, grace.