What did the little one drop today?

his milk, his artwork on paper, a sweet pear, himself, he screamed when his hands caught the fall and scratched the sidewalk, I yelled at the sidewalk for hurting him and he laughed through his tears, he dropped a few books after begging for one more, and then one more after one more passed, he dropped a kernel of corn in his bib, he slipped off his shoes as his feet dangled from the seat, he threw all of his colorful paper after placing them on his head, he let the sheets slide apart and teasingly sway as they fell.

I met a man at Merz Apothecary last summer. He had a headache. He saw me entering from the revolving doors and he called, trouble! He asked me who wrote "In the room the women come and go. Talking of Michelangelo." He recommended I read Eric Fromm. That is when I tried to love and loved and still love and it was a curse.

He emailed me back telling me not to drop all the things kids do.

Stephanie,

It's not a shame to die and it's not a shame to love.

Being a mother is chalk boards, framing light scribbles, saving Trader Joe's stickers, hummus and peppers, apple juice mixed with grape juice, white noise, getting used to the smell of urine, pretending the diaper is a hat, he laughs, pretending a banana is a phone, being chased with a toy potato, Pop, 80's, or Country are his preferences, Moses Moses eskimoses I love you from your head to your toeses, brokeded, I want one more song, okay, I want one more, okay, I want one more, I close the door, I want one more, then he starts singing to himself.

sometimes the water spills from the glass
and I let it drip and linger
without wiping my chin

"It is no more pleasant to be killed by a cruise missile than it is to be killed by gas; you're still dead."

About December 20th

I felt pounded getting out of the car and seeing more black sky, the trees were gone and it snowed. It felt like a divorce, so much little time committed to living and loving and now it's gone.

You will believe me in tomorrow's headline.

Tom Waits's "Dead and Lovely" started playing on my phone and woke me up.

I don't know how it played again.

a warm, relaxed hug that doesn't resist. That lets the warmth heat up. 

To touch his back with my palms, too, not just the fingertips

and just stand there