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How Quickly

A Poem for the mothers
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How quickly

How quickly we have moved from long days of Doc McStuffins and Dora

To drivers permits and texting

From small pudgy moccasin-clad feet

To sharing size 8 sneakers

From nursing snuggles and chopping fruit into small chunks so as not to choke tiny throats

To coffee shop dates and rare and elusive hugs-begrudgingly given

They really do move from marshmallow rolls on perfect cherub wrists

To strong arms and legs and soft tender feelings cloaked in sarcasm and sass

They say it moves fast—and they are right

How to make it last?

Love them at every stage

Kiss their ouchies and snuggle through tears

Hold their small hands as much as you can

Their hands will match yours soon enough

Then let them be angry at you—love them through the uncertain and hard worn paths of youth

They will come back to you

If you trust them. Love them.

They are both the small squishy babe and the tall, lengthy teen

Soon to be the towering, formidable woman

They are both yours and not

They are their own

Singular, Unique and perfect

How quickly it goes

How quickly

They grow

I am determined not to let the difficulties of the world overwhelm me and distract me from one of the most important things. Being a mother to my children. I wrote this poem the other day while I was thinking that by the time we elect a new President, my oldest will be graduating high school. I will not lose precious time with her these next few years by allowing myself to be dragged down into despair.

Let’s keep reaching for each other,

Stef

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