THE NINTH MONTH

This is a poem by Carol Lynn Pearson. My mom sent it to me a while back and it now makes more sense. I understand finally what it means to "miss the sweet proximity", that constant companionship of having someone with you always. I miss the movement inside of me, and the way your hiccups felt along the way. You still get them and I feel so bad because they are so strong. I miss the way your little bum would protrude out of one side of my body and then make its way back in, I miss you just being there, just along for the ride. I miss how when i would ride my bike to work (yes up until you were born) you would kick as my knees would nudge you and I always thought you were pedaling with me.

There are plenty of things I don't miss and so many things I love about being your "neighbor." I love the way you smell, how you gaze into my eyes, how i love you so much it hurts, how the sound of my voice calms you immediately, how you are growing so fast, how beautiful you are, how you are making me cry writing this, how I now comprehend what it means to love like a mother, how you curl up on my chest and just sleep, I love that you are you and you are mine! I love you "little one" and I am so glad to not just be your neighbor, but to be your mom and your friend. 

THE NINTH MONTH

 

Being a duplex

I have been happy, my dear,

To loan you half the house

Rent-free and furnished

As best I could.

 

You have been a good tenant, all in all,

Quiet, yet comfortably there

Tapping friendly on the wall.

 

But I hear you have outgrown the place

And are packing up to move.

Well, I will miss the sweet proximity.

But we will keep in touch.

There are bonds, my dear

That reach beyond a block

Or a mile or a hemisphere

Born of much love and labor.

 

I approve the move

And gladly turn from landlady

To neighbor.