untitled emotions

Mama, can you hold me?

After I finish changing Ruthie's diaper, Eliza.

Mama, can you hoooooold me?

Just hang on, please.

Maaaamaaaaaa? Can you hooooold meeeeee?

Okay, yes. Now.

My nerves are hanging out of my ears and eyes and skin, and now you're sitting on them.

But I'm holding you.

***

Mama, can you tell a story about me and Eliza?

Inwardly, I sigh. I recoil slightly. Anything else, please.

But I muster my enthusiasm and try to awaken my sluggish imagination.

One day very soon, Claire, you'll attend school all day.

And I'll want to tell you stories.

***

A cry in the night.

Ruthie, you can't be up again.

I pick you up and you bury your face in my neck. Tired. Needy.

In my arms nursing, you cash out, back to blissful oblivion. I wish I could tag along.

But your fuzzy hair and warm body and soft sighs belong to me alone.

In this moment.

***

I've been out of college for almost six years. What have I accomplished since then?

Scraps of my heart strewn all over the place, quietly beating in time with the hearts of the three people who can crawl most scratchingly under my skin.

I welcome you in.

Scratch away.

I may not let you out.