sidewalk squares

• to hear the accompanying interview with six-year-old katie lu, click here
• for her full collection of blogs and recordings, become a patron at ginna's vino & the bean on Patreon

when the anxieties

of the wee hours 

aren't specifically

about myself

job, income, health insurance,

aging ungracefully especially around the jaw...

they are about her:

does she know to stay away from electrical outlets?

I should remind her today.

what about plastic bags?

she can never play with plastic bags.

and never ever put one on her head.

not even to be funny

not even if another kid does.

I will subtly weave that into conversation this morning.

Over oatmeal.

This most recent 

waking wee hour

the worry was handwriting.

she's not getting enough handwriting practice.

small motor skills!

brain development!

young for her class!

falling behind

falling behind

falling

f

    a

        l

            l

                i

                    n

                        g

and I go in

to kiss her sweet cheek.

and then a little higher up

where her temple meets her hair.

sometimes I lift a little hand

heavy with sleep

and I place the cuppy palm

against my own ungracefully-aging cheek

I have this

I have you

I am me

much because

you are you.

When she was a baby

she would rest her little hands on me.

she was carried by me 

much of the time,

at that time,

and her little hands

with little strength

rested on my shoulders

rested on my chest

and sometimes

just gently there on my cheek.

I got to loving this little paw

with no pressure to it

so much

that as she got older

and stood on her own,

I'd kneel before her and say 

"put your hands on my cheeks?"

and she'd place

two toddler hands

over my

most self-conscious feature

and bless me.

she,

I was convinced,

who had so recently

been 

in the company of angels.

When I was pregnant,

and far enough along

to recognize her movements,

I knew the difference

between a big thump

-a knee or the heel of her foot-

versus

the fish-fin flutter

of a hand.

They are getting stronger

now,

of course,

as five looks down the block at six.

But she is still young enough

that she must hold my hand 

to cross the streets,

and young enough

that she still elects to hold it,

sometimes

even when we are not crossing.

when we are just passing 

from one sidewalk square to the next.

Don't step on the cracks, Mommy!

Let's skip, Mommy!

Let's run, Mommy!

 

and her hand 

no longer flutters

no longer rests

it grips,

holds on,

squeezes even

and

I

I

I just really like the lady I am

with your hand in mine,

little girl

yes, let's skip

let's run

                                   

                              y

                     l  

            f   

let's 

to hear the accompanying interview with six-year-old katie lu, click here

PREVIEW OF NEXT ENTRY:

lately, at night
citing nightmares
as the cause
of sleeplessness
for trouble sleeping
or trouble getting to sleep,
she delays at bedtime.

remembering
that I’d slept with a little plush pink and green bunny
for a week before we began sleep training
because I’d heard
that some babies
are comforted at night
with a sleep toy
that smells like mama,
I offered my six-year-old
a piece of my clothing
to hold onto in the night.

she liked the idea of mommy’s shirt going to bed with her
and she
really


took


her


time


… and


………..took


……………….her


……………………..time


sniffing out which one had the most mom scent

what has eve been or ever will be more flattering
than someone craving my self-scented
T-shirt to comfort her to sleep?

it’s been going on for a week now.
she reads a book with dad,
he says, “say goodnight to ya mama,”
we hug and kiss,
and she requests
a shirt
or sweater.
last night she said,
“let’s get to sniffin!!”
and she sniffed through
four or five shirts
before landing on
the ginnaest.


I heard her and her dad
discussing the matter.
he said,
“why don’t you want my shirt?”
and she told him
-in whatever way a six-year-old does,
politeness not necessarily prioritized -
that she preferred my smell.
he pushed back
but then she responded,
high-pitched,
putting the matter to bed (as it were):


“I just like mama’s smell best!
I don’t even like my own smell!”

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