Paradox

A poem for Ava

I keep trying to make you fit
into my lap the way you used to
when you were younger,
when your head nestled perfectly
underneath my chin, your soft baby hairs
tickling my skin, your breath slowing
as you settled in, cocooned away in love. 

You and I didn’t know then that one day
you would decide to leave my side,
that “I do it myself” would become your 
endless refrain. Is it wrong that I loved your spirit
and also wished to reign it in,
to try and contain it and shove it down,
to make it an easier box to carry around?

Now you find ways to make room
for yourself on my lap, caring nothing for the phone
I cannot seem to put down.
“Mama, are you listening?”
Your words tumble out in your haste
to tell me everything, but in your haste
you forget what you wanted to say.
I fight the urge to sigh in frustration, and then I hear
“I love you” spring forth unprompted, a gift
I want to open forever. 

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash