I wash dishes when it is dark
and I am tired
I hang up tutus and
scattered dress-up attire
I gather up scattered socks and underwear
and kiss the brows of those
who left them everywhere
I tuck tired toes and elbows
back underneath
their quilts
and beloved blankies
I wipe away crumbs and
sweep up the dirt
I cry bitter tears for harsh words said
and time ill-spent
I push away fears
of failing them
And then my own mother's words
come back to me
washing over me, so soothingly.
"Each day, each hour, each minute
Is a New Beginning."
2 comments:
love. love. love. this. Your mom was a wise woman! "Growing hurts!" Stays with me to this day. Thanks for sharing this. My mom and I were talking the other day, she remembers all her mistakes and I remember all the good stuff. I hope my kids remember the good stuff :)
You are quite poetic, Jill. Thanks for the reminder that we can start fresh each minute.
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