on turning two

one week old

You are the same.
But different.

You arrived with wisps of brown hair
and eyes that were almost always

Loud squawks and cries filled
our once
quiet house.

Arms and lets moved
involuntarily and separate
from the rest of you.

Stretching, twitching, rooting
looking for a warm hand or
your next meal.

Painfully vulnerable to cool air
in the house or
the hot blast of the outdoors.

Too much air in your bottle and
you bellowed with pain in your belly.

Too many blankets and
your skin developed a heat rash.

Every moment was a delicate balance.

Each second with you I held my breath.

You are the same.
But different.

You call out to me each morning:
Ma Ma!  Ma  Ma!

Despite the water and comb
your blond curls
do as they please.

Your wide, blue eyes marvel at
passing trucks and bikes.  They glisten
with desperation
when you believe I am leaving.  They twinkle
with mischief
when you reach for the clock on the shelf.

Our never-quiet house is filled with
your language.

We strain to understand the syllables you string together:
Pop-top, How-uu? cucks wooom. ap jews eees!

Small legs carry you
deliberately at top speed
around the island
down the hall
out the door into the sunshine.

Straining toward independence as you
pull from my hand
in parking lots and stores.

Seemingly indestructible
as you don’t quite
stick the landing at the bottom
of the slide.

Boo boos are kissed away.

Hugs are quick.

Every moments is filled with new.

Each second with you I hold my breath.

You are the same.
But different.

24 monthsHappy birthday, my sweet Eddie Bear.

I love you.


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