Sweet Nothings

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Sweet Nothings

Tonight, in the dark, flanked by two of my kids, I send eight magic words wandering through the gray bunk bars:

 “Anything else you want to share about today?” 

Their room feels thick and cozy, like pink slippers.

 Love buzzes in oscillation with the fans.

“When I grow up I want to be like you, Mom.”

“Why? How so?”

“You’re all positive…and confident, and courageous.

You know,  brave.” 

.“I am so happy you see me like that.” I say, and think I better write it down while I can.

There are four of us, remember? And we are all so quiet now.

But like at a sleepover, I can’t resist: “Psst. Hey you up there.

Want to know something?”

“Yes.” 

“When I grow up, I want to be like you.” 

“You do?!”

 “I do! You are creative,” 

“but!”  

“kind..” 

“Mom!”

“Curious. A great problem solver.”  

“Mom…” 

“ I’ve decided.”

“Mom!” all three protest, “but you already ARE grown up.”

 “I am?!” I gasp, and then act like the news makes me want to throw up. 



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