love

December (2011) Daughters

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Riona

you tiptoe across carpet
in froggy footed pajamas
the small smile on your cheeks
as you wait for your turn
under the tree.

your sisters pick out gifts
easily identifiable
and we ask you what Santa
brought for little Riona.

you keep your small sweet smile
your eyes focused on a small box
of green marshmallow Peeps.
your little hands pick it up
and without a word you nod.

i hold back tears.
in five years i have instilled nothing
in the pure and grateful heart
you came into this world with
overlooking the bicycle next to the tree
for a candy you don’t even like
and i remember just why we are here.

Mythili

you won’t sleep on long drives
as your sisters snooze away
you play games with your dolls
tell stories about adventures with Mama
and make song requests.

you have lyrics memorized
to songs i didn’t even realize
the words to myself

your favorite this month?
“If I Had a Million Dollars”
to which every last non-singing note
spills from your lips
in a harmony of artistry
from the back seat of the van.

Isabella

she only loves you.
her almost-two hands push me away
with her classic dirty look.

she can’t say your name yet
but grins when you help her dress
take her to the potty
put food on her plate.

your almost-nine hands
are the perfect match
for your young cousin
and you proudly announce to the world
what an amazing child you are.

Grateful Grin and All

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the sun has set in cloudville, but
on the drive home the clouds clear,
a starlit sky to bring in Santa,
who sits up setting up a bicycle
and filling stockings with little girl joys.

the clock ticks on. he is
as silent as the sacred night
and i know (i know)
he will let my tears slide
into the passenger’s view
of the endless drive.

they awaken (not too early)
and my unassuming five-year-old
overlooks the bicycle beside the tree,
pointing instead, grateful grin and all,
to the green Christmas tree Peeps,
the simplest gift of gratitude
that i ache to gather in my arms.

(if i could love)
if i could have for one moment
the beautiful temperament
she came into the world with,
the sadness surrounding my heart
would melt away with the first bite
of overly sweetened marshmallow.

November (2011) Daughters

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Isabella

you have tears again.
they mimic mine like a shadow of myself.
how could you know?
how could you put your heart
into this overly-nostalgic,
made-for-my-generation movie
and cry just as i do?

because you are mine.
my first to witness the struggles
of young motherhood.
my first to test out all my
ridiculous rules.
my first to see the truth
behind the words i try to hide from you.
my first.

and that is why we share these tears,
this joy that comes from
our dual-beating hearts,
our love,
our first. forever. bond.

Mythili

i hated seven.
you take it in stride
with a new mouth
that you’re not afraid to show off.
you memorize music
and pedal across six blocks.
you state logically the reason
behind every decision i make.
you point out the intricacies
of school regulations.
you know by heart the page
with the map of Madrid.
you have a plan,
sure and steady,
and by golly my Mythili,
you’re going to fulfill it.

Riona

you burst down the stairs
in your oversized Daisy shirt,
follow me around the store,
a small shadow to the boisterous girls.
you stand smaller than all
as they sing along to the words they read,
and your lips move into circles of want
and cuteness too beautiful to capture.

you are the baby
who still sucks her thumb,
whose long eyelashes beat back
the quiet fear in her eyes.

you will always be smaller than them,
my cuddly, lovey girl,
the one whose warmth
stays with me even after
i have left the room.

Leftover Remnants of Gratitude

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they are back:
our table engulfs
the full-bodied laughter
whose absence has lingered
like an invisible spirit

now i smile,
my heart full,
my tear-stained,
panic-pedaled drive
to the airport
all but forgotten

their words creep across
the bottle of wine,
the stuffing, turkey,
leftover remnants of gratitude,
and rest inside me.

i have ached all day,
all the long weekend,
for the vitality
i never knew existed
until they stepped off the plane
in their Abercrombie
and winter boots (in July),
blonde and dark,
a perfect mixture of beauty.

if only their exuberance
could fill all the empty places
in the lives that surround me,
the sadness that seeps into our souls
(is this an American epidemic?),
that keeps us from living the lives
we were promised we could live.

we all need to switch pajamas,
race down the hallway of the hotel,
trip and rug-burn our palms,
and head drunkenly towards the sex shop.
when we come home?
we will laugh until we cry,
we will remember that we can
live the lives we were promised to live.

Estamos Bien

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mañana tenemos el
Acción de Día de Gracias tercera

he stands in an airport
with laughter at the back of his voice,
the emotion so close to tears
that they sit waiting
on the edges of my lids

estamos bien.
tenemos una avión mañana por la mañana

because we are all well
with them in our midst–
so un-American to be grateful
for a night longer,
a missed flight,
a smile that we’ve all tucked away
inside ourselves
(that he fishes out
as easily as catching
tadpoles on a hot June day)

Thanksgiving dos,
we sit and share thanks:
one of the four girls
mentions her extra parents
(the highlight of the evening)

i bring forth my Spaniards
(absent)
but with an ever-present influence
on every thought i have,
on every emotion that has crossed my heart
in the four short months
that i have made them mine

Isabella gives me the look
as if i could forget
the reason we are all gathered,
for without these four girls,
none of this happiness
could float in the room
carrying the
feliz día de los padres
mylar balloon
up to the ceiling,
zhuzhu pet attached,
miracle in place
(can you see it?)

and the Spaniards?
they would live somewhere else,
and our surrealistic vision
of tomorrow
would be so.
real.
so.
unimaginative.

instead?
i hear him laugh
about fumando el toro,
the night in the airport
and our third,
and final,
Thanksgiving meal.

A New Tomorrow

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i will rise and wash away this day
i will remember yesterday
the passion that sandwiched
morning and night
the friendlovefriendlove
that has become my life
i will take my daughters’ words
embrace them in my arms
instead of throwing them back
i will be a new tomorrow

Unequivocal

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what amazes me most
is the unequivocal love
that i could never
(digging deep into my soul
tearing out my heartstrings
ripping apart my internal organs)
be able to replenish or replace

i could not even touch on
the amount of love
trapped within the lips
he presses against my cheek
let alone the endless ocean
buried hollowly in his chest
whose waves knock me to the shore
all breath lost to the salt.

Measurement

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the space between
when that light counts down
and how sore my muscles will be
is immeasurable

but i can measure the speed
of my tires through
the intersection
a dream in the making

i beat the limit
and make it in time
to hear thrilled immeasurable
screams of my beauties

The Sun is High

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the sun is high
young voices howl
the swing creaks
yet we lie here

i have no desire
to move from this bed,
to take my hand away
from your new goatee

oh how easy it is
to fall in love
with the morning
allowing us to stay

this is a dream
to wash away my nightmares
to feel my skin on your skin
to know you are mine

the sun is high
our plates are full
but there is time
always, for love

Step

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with these feet
you will pound it out
you will remember your childhood
your hand in his
you will run
run past the wind
as the moment
you last saw him
slides into your subconscious
and he becomes a part
of every step you take.