Anticipation Poem by Imaanah Saleem

Everything has a beginning and end—a time to wake up, and a time to rest. I was there when the sky woke. It parted it's eyes like my little girl when she was ready to start the day. I stood up with her from my seat on the porch to head inside so that I could begin my shift. She whimpered a bit. I sang my little shush song to quiet her. Then I placed her down in her chair on the kitchen table, and walked away to get breakfast started for the both of us. That's what I am doing now. My eyelids droopwhile I switch my gaze back and forth from the pot with my baby's bottle inside, and the pan with my omelet. I try to flip the omelet before the time is right, and it breaks all apart. Then I mistake the time that has passed since I started warming the bottle. The drop of milk hits the back of my hand, and I sigh because it is too cold. I return my little girl's bottle to the water, and try to fix the mistake with my eggs. At the table I sit with my baby in my arms, feeding her. My plate is settled on the table, waiting for me. I stare at the clock as time passes, wondering "when." Then the Knocks come. They don't excite me because I know where they are coming from. It's just the neighbors.