I turn to see her,
the little stuffed donkey
hanging from her right hand
bobs while she explains her thoughts to me,
both hands whirling in the air:

“You know, Mom,
I’m sorry that I couldn’t tell you,
when I was first born,
when I first came out,
that I care about you;
because I do,
I did,
care about you,
but I couldn’t tell you;
I couldn’t say any words.”

“You know,”
I replied,
turning back to straighten piles of papers
and stacks of books that collect on the piano top,
“I cared about you, too,
even before you came out –
even before you were born!”

We look at each other, then,
and giggle at the joy of it.

“Joy comes to those who in a sense forget themselves and become totally aware of the other.” ~Blessed Teresa of Calcutta

Blooms of Selflessness

Water drips from bags, buckets, and bins
we pull from the basement

and we throw the moldy trash
over the top, into the bin

and hear it crash
through the silence

we keep quiet about the massive
job ahead, assigning missions

to the kids, keeping even ourselves
quiet and distracted

each working for the other’s
sanity knowing it comes

with the time and the space
we make, we create alcoves

of patience and dance around
the pools, build bridges of possibility

and hope, and watching the water recede
we forget ourselves in the giving

and find ourselves in the receiving,
blooms of selflessness

floating in
and out with the tide.