I couldn’t have imagined
when you emerged
after that long labor, furrowed brow
and heavenly chunks and
soft breath against my chest
that we’d be here
drawing to the end of this
chapter, but I see the days fluttering
by like pages in the fan’s
stream.
And I want to yell out,
Stop growing, and so I do but not
scary voiced, more in that mama
way when I say what’s true,
but with a big smile and a deep swaying side to side.
Just don’t get any bigger, I say.
Stop growing. You smile big then,
No I won’t stop, no I won’t
you sing-song.
Here we are, counting days, and they
are drops in this cup of all these years,
you and your sisters,
twelve and a half of them with a little one
or more in my arms, around my ankles, standing by
my side at the kitchen sink,
holding my hand on autumn’s daytime walks.
In a little over a month you my sweet pea,
whose name and very heart means clear and bright,
will start kindergarten.
You will sit in a classroom and gaze admiringly
at your teacher,
and play with friends of your own in the field,
and this time of my life will finish,
though I know what they say about the end
of one thing marking
the beginning of another. Of course we continue together.
I think about all this as I recall your sweet breath on my neck
and the way you reached around my middle last night,
head at my chest,
squeezing me as hard as you could and listening
to how the words came out.
________
(At top is Mama and Her Birdies paper collage, imagined and designed by my mama and me, constructed by her creative and most able hands. Done in anticipation of my youngest’s arrival in 2008. It still hangs in her nursery, which is now my writing space.)
Joining with Lisa-Jo Baker for Five Minute Friday and the prompt: FINISH. Lisa-Jo announced that she is drawing to her own “finish” as the leader and head cheerleader of this wild and free writing community. Next week, she will be passing the Five Minute Friday baton to Kate Motaung, and we will be cheering them both on.
Connecting through the power of stories written, spoken and lived
Ashley your poetry is so rich, like the depth of your heart as you process this season. Thank you for sharing it with us… My soul sighed a little with relief to find your words in my inbox just now. Love you, sister.
Thank YOU, sister. What a dear affirmation. I love you.
Oh Ashley!!! I’m sitting here, crying in front of perfect strangers at the beauty of your words– and also the own struggle I feel that my OLDEST is headed to Kindergarten in just 10 days! Thank you for sharing your beautiful writing with us today. Glad to meet you.
So grateful for your presence here and the opportunity to meet you today. It’s been difficult for me to see each of my girls go to school for the first time, for slightly different reasons. I cried for a good several months when my oldest (now 12) went to kindergarten, and so I definitely empathize with your tears. Praying that God would hold you close in that place. These are tender spaces — the ones that hold our precious children — aren’t they? Much love to you today.
so beautifully put. my son is five and this week we rearranged his room, and the rocker/glider was moved out. it thankfully only resides in a different now room but boy, did that tug at my heart. that simple brown, stained chair and all the memories it holds. i love reading your words Ashley, thank you!
Krista, thank you so much for sharing that memory. Those tangible items contain such stories in their fibers, no? Heart tugging for sure. We recently passed on our glider…so many nights spent rocking, rocking, nursing, reading, loving…oh, you’ve got me going again. :) Always so grateful for your presence. xoxo
With my oldest going to high school this year, this gets me still – this desire to hold and release. Watching her grow into a woman of God and wishing her into my lap. Such beauty in family! Enjoy the first day of Kindergarten! I am teaching part time Kindergarten this year and it is the most fun class age ever! :)
Kindergarten teachers are incredible! Thank you for loving those little ones. Our family was just talking last night about what a gift it is to teach kids of that age. They are so darling and filled with promise and all at such very different places…yes, your work with them is art.
My oldest is in 7th grade this year, and I feel the years moving so quickly toward HS and beyond. I love how you describe your heart for your girl. “Watching her grow into a woman of God and wishing her into my lap.” How I understand that.
Thank you for being here.
Oh girlie… I love you so and this… I get this. I am there in a whole different season and I am standing with you – watching them grow and fly and soar and oh isn’t that what (most) of our heart wants for them? And still… we beg for just a little more time! (August is happening… picking a date that will hopefully work for you too, because we must at least sit of coffee or lunch and just be in the same space, at the same time, in real life! <3
Yes, friend, so looking forward to our time together….so soon. I can only imagine what this season feels like for you, and I am deeply encouraged by seeing how you love your girl, feel the feelings, work it out, cheer her on to soar, pursue what God’s created for you to do in this place and this time. I love your mama heart that extends to so many.
Ashley, your words brought me back to Anna’s first day of Kindergarten. How many times I’ve yelled “stop growing” in my mind, and yet she’s in such a hurry and all I ask is that she slows down a little. Blessings to you and your little ones!
Thank you so much, David. Yes, they are in such a hurry. It seems all we can do to slow time is to give thanks for this moment here where they, and we, are. Bless you and your family this year. Hope it’s a great year for you all.
I know cuz my little guy is 5 and he’s my baby and yet he’s just not anymore. I loved this so much. You’re such a tender mama, a tender person, really. And I love that about you, how deeply you feel and how well you love.
Thank you, dear Alia. I never really understood when mamas said, “You’ll always be my baby,” but now I do. Do I ever. I’m sure we will never lose that element of achy love toward these gifts…all of them so different, but such beautiful reflections of God’s image. It’s an incredible gift.
This is so sweet Ashley…I love it!
Thank you, friend!
This has such depth and richness. What a poet you are! And this message sinks deep for me because my oldest is turning 20 next month. Twenty! How does that happen? Stop growing. Stop. Thank you for putting these feelings into words for me. Love this!
Oh wow, 20. My goodness. How DOES this happen? And with these last six years being the fastest of my life, I can see it now. I suppose all we can do is slow to see, to give thanks for what is right here before us, to trust that the moments and minutes and hours and day all strung together with these precious kids means something.
Thank you for your dear words here.
So many layers and nuances of finishing a season and beginning another, aren’t there? As you always do, your sensitive and seeing heart capture these moments just long enough to hold them lightly in your hands, gaze at them, and watch them fly away, remembering their beauty and richness. This post reads to me like the change from summer to autumn, the way the air becomes crisp and the leaves change color and we breathe it in with a sense of anticipation and a longing often beyond words. Thank you for bearing your heart here. I love you.
Amber, I know I’ve said it before, but the way you see deep into my words (and heart) is a beautiful gift. What you’ve said about summer to autumn really resonates with me. Thank you for that.
Yes, anticipation and longing is such an apt summary of where my heart finds itself. And your line: “capture these moments just long enough to hold them lightly in your hands, gaze at them, and watch them fly away, remembering their beauty and richness” — I pretty much need to write that down and put it on my wall. I love you!