Up: 12.06.2013

"Oh mannnn....I just bought that coffee....." The words slurred off his bubble gum lips and onto the floor following his extra large sugary caffeine beverage. This beverage spilled on to the counter, onto the cashier, onto lottery tickets, onto me and not on him.
 
He asked for a towel and started to wipe the counter. He saw me, I was next in line, he saw her, she was in line after me. She was an elderly lady. He saw us, he saw his empty cup and he saw the cashier's look of distain. He fled.
 
Next to the convenient store was the establishment from which he purchased his icy summer coffee.  I was pregnant, she was elderly and the other was working.   He walked out and us three were cleaning this adult child's mess. I was on my knees wiping the floor, she was wiping the counter and the other was wiping down the register and I watched this boy laughing though the glass door and I stood up.
 
I opened the door and said to him: "My children are six and 1 and a half and they clean up after themselves better than you. You have left a pregnant woman, an elderly woman and a woman who is working to clean up your mess. I'm not sure how you were brought up but I will not clean up after you nor will I let these other women do it. You come back in here and help."
 
The line of people and the staff at the coffee dispensary looked on with slack jaws and the man boy looked at me with shock and confusion.
 
Is this how we are raising our children these days? Is this how we are brought up? 

Up: 12.05.13

Autumn (continued)

11.

Okay, I'm up, I'm up;
rising
not quite singing

but I'm up
and everything feels different
although I'm not sure why
exactly

but it's different
uncomfortable perhaps
oppressive maybe
and the bed I just left sings a siren's song

beckoning 
welcoming
sheltering

and for a moment I...

but instead I turn away
and when I open the door
just to see

the wind bites my cheek
the thinnest blanket of icy cobweb snow is sparkling
the rooster is sleeping in
and I know the season has made it's crossing over
has snapped

and there is only forward motion now

but I'm up, I'm up
to greet it. 

Up: 12.03.2013

"Up!"

She reached her chubby, but tiny, arms as high as she could. It was one of her first words that everyone could understand and react to.

I bent down and happily obliged, snuggling my quickly growing baby. In a little over a year she had gone from tiny newborn to vocal baby. The months had slipped by at lightning speed.

"Up!!!"

She smiled a gummy smile. Words had power. Her words. Her power.

______________________________________________________

"Do you think it'll follow us home?"

Her eyes were fixed on the moon. She had recently discovered it and was completely fascinated.

"We are going home now, c'mon moon."

Nearly every night that we were out, she would have these little conversations. Coaxing the moon to follow along. Her two year old brain was trying to understand much much bigger things these days.

"Mommy, can you pick it up the moon for me?"

Her thoughts were growing so fast with her, I tried to keep up.

________________________________________________________

"Can you pick me up?"

She has been asking some form of that request nearly daily since gaining the ability to say words. I wrapped my arms around her and pretended to strain against her weight.

"I am getting so big, Mommy!!"

She was. Over 3 years old. Her body has grown, her mind has grown, her imagination and her temper. Everything is big these days. Big resistance and bigger dreams. Our days are filled with big. Small requests to wash hands or pick up toys become big. Big fights, big compromises, big sighs, big love. My little girl is big in so many ways. I relish the moments that she wants me to hold her. They are fleeting. If I blink too slowly, hesitate for a second, I may miss my chance. So, I grab it, I grab ahold of her and the moment. I squeeze her and cover her in kisses. I sneak in a head sniff. Then she wriggles free and leaves my lap for another big adventure.

My little girl is big in so many ways. She is growing. Up.

Up 12.2.13

Waking Early, Utila

On the island there are mornings
when the outline of laundry on the porch,
shadows of banana trees,
flare jet against a sky banked
with flaming coals.

The next time you open
your eyes, moments later,
it has gentled, rose gold.

Then steel and white silver,
and if you stare long enough
the ocean appears,

a line of blue iron.