Once I was little.
Dreaming of motherhood and life.
Dreaming of simplicity.
Of snowflakes and music and happy.
Shake the snow globe.
Flakes fall down around.
There life is in front of me.
The mothering that wasn’t in the dream.
Snowflakes scattered and met with reality.
Of mothering and slammed doors and late bills.
Simplicity met with deadlines and spinning around in frenzy.
Music made of my words of hurry and no and let’s get going and bedtime.
And my eyes.
Still the same.
The same eyes as when I was young.
Staring back at me.
Yet, now, yet now they see.
How the vision and dream of motherhood in childhood was not meant to be.
It was too simple. Too basic.
Without the nuances and the wrinkles and the utter sheer determination.
Unknown were the joys in the simplicity.
Joys of children’s eyes catching mine.
Of the inhales and exhales at night.
Of the hearing of the word mom in need.
Unknown was the strength.
The deep strength that only a mother can have.
Make the snow fall.
And it’s better than the dream.