Each day
she gives the countdown
till she turns 18
and can move out
and be on her own
and finally have her own space
and her own room.
I pretend
I’m excited with her
for her to find herself
through her independence.
I pretend to share her joy
as that day draws nearer
…now only 382 days!
She’ll be happy.
She’s a strong young woman
head on straight
good grades
no drugs or alcohol
not boy crazy
a beautiful person
inside and out.
She doesn’t know
it hurts me
when she counts those days off.
She has no idea
how I feel inside
when she squeals
with delight
at the thought
of moving away.
I’ll keep pretending.
I know
I’ve done my job well
and she will be something.
She will be productive
and successful
and independent
and she will come back.
Kahlil Gibran expressed it best: 'Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.' Best, Martin
Of course she will come back, they soon realise that Mum is their friend, refuge, bank, wardrobe, empty tummy filler, clothes washer, confidant, and eventually, in time a babysitter! Another good write from you. I always enjoy reading your poems, they are great. Love Ernestine XXX
Lovely Mary. Be assured they always come back one way or another. Our heart break their independence. Patricia
of course the great mystery goes on, and on the urge to become the True Self and find a place in the manifoldness of the world every being must do this and too a mother's love endless and understanding the truth of self becoming real but love love binds souls together in a way thinking cannot understand anyway going and coming back the eternal return adds a bit of spice to life a great poem
Home is the imagery we always carry with us.One day you will be rewarded for your selflessness. We never get over needing those who have loved us unconditionally.. Kindest regards, Sandra Fowler
I think shw will always love and need Mary, that's the beautiful way life is.
Very good poem...don't worry she will be fine and so will you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Mary, just keep the thought that when you hold a butterfly too tightly, you crush it...but when you let it fly away, it comes back to land on your shoulder. This is a heartfelt poem and one which all mothers of young adolescents will understand. Best to you. Raynette