Independence

you've been pulling your hand

out of mine lately

i thought it was just a fluke

the first time 

the second time

but then the third time i was like 

hey now

don't you know i love you

and you're hurting mama's feelings

but you have leapt 

from monkey-clinging dependence

to ravenous observer

and more than every once in a while

you don't want anyone anywhere anyhow

getting in the way

and if you think I'm holding you back 

even if I'm not

you yank that little hand away so fast 

i keep thinking

how i want you to be fearless

bold and gutsy

yet being your mother

has rendered me

one part superhero

one part quivering in a corner

just imagining 

something hurting you

you take no prisoners

on your quest for new

new sounds 

new textures

new bounces

new flecks on the carpet

you have an unquenchable desire

for things 

just beyond your grasp

daddy and i have this theory

you are an old 

sage soul

and because of this 

so bitterly and loudly 

you hover your arms and legs

belly pressing the ground

frustrated to learn from scratch

what you've already mastered

this independence

you're now exerting

so robustly

has my heart all bursting

and clenching simultaneously 

and witnessing your world expand

is an honor

it's an honor

but ouch

we have not yet arrived

to that stage 

where you return kisses

or hugs 

or love yous

i know we are not far

but i long

for that first intentional nuzzle

against the crook of my neck

this is not to say

i can't tell you love me

you demand my attention 

with wiggly squeals

oh so pleased

when i see

i enter a room and you beam

you seek your comfort 

against me

sometimes i catch 

a glimpse

the determined chin and mischievous brow

give your inner teenager away

but then you are so small

and vulnerable

and so very baby

i know

i have time

i will try so hard

to exist fully here

together

before this fades to daydreams

that same hand

that pulls away

still reaches up in your sleep to feel my hair

to make sure it is me

and that is everything

Melissa Glenn, The Village Journalist