In about thirty hours,
I will have
my sweet boy
in my arms
and smell
his once-boy
now-man
smells
and get his whiskered
kiss on my hopeful
cheek.
In about thirty hours,
our house will feel
like our home
again
filled with boy
laughter
and men
sharing sport stories
with words
which feel like
ancient Hebrew
and modern Chinese
to me.
I love it!
In about thirty hours,
I will bake, bake, bake
and
cook, cook, cook
and be Julia Child
and June Cleaver
and confidant.
In about thirty hours,
my heart
does not have
to be two
states away.
Our son,
our blessing is
coming home.
Thank God!
LB 11/25/08
Thinking of Tim's homecoming, I was so tickled to read Walter Dean Myer's poem in Hate That Cat by Sharon Creech:
LOVE THAT BOY
Love that boy
like a rabbit loves to run
I said I love that boy
like a rabbit loves to run
Love to call him in the morning
love to call him
"Hey, there, son!"
Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!
I wish you the blessing of being with those who bring you joy and peace...and always give you a soft place to land.
2 comments:
Laura, that poem is beautiful. You have left me eyes full of tears at my desk....good tears, mother of son tears...things to come tears...
Happy Thanksgiving. I was up till wee hours of the morning roasting and carving our turkey - since I have to work all day today, I decided to get ahead of the game so that I can welcome 19 people to our dinner table this evening, with a slightly more relaxed manner.
All good. Life is amazing. People are awesome. Ain't it great to have days like today.
Laura,
This is beautiful! Have you sent it to Cynthia Lord. If not, you should!
Carol
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