Mother’s Day

How many times have I chopped an onion?
That would be like asking how many times I’ve
Poured a glass of milk
Tied a pair of shoes
Picked up toys
Slept eyes half-open

Sometimes I really hate chopping that onion
I grab a convenience bag out of the freezer,
Onion pieces, icy and damp
And the recipe is soggy.
How dare I

be a mom

Trying to cut corners.

How many times have I held a sweet head next to mine
Baby-breaths slow in sleep
Sweaty hair wet with fever
How many times have I woken after a quiet night
The first in days without coughing fits in the next room
My burning eyes clear with relief

Thank God for cut corners
For help from others
For Monday morning drop-offs
For coffee
For it all.

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