SUN SALUTATIONS AND THE LIGHT BEFORE THE RAIN

I wish that he'll keep bringing me flowers. Odd florals, evenly.

Those utmost small yellow ones, that must lie rather than stand in water on a little dish,

being so exhausted from the sun and his long detours walking home.

Dried straws that may, or may not have been stolen with a swift baby hand

from a bouquet by the sidewalk of the florist.

A luminescent dandelion that runs it's stem's milk from his hand to mine.

I wish he stays morning tired with me and that we wake together

and blink ourselves used to the world, almost to each other too, anew every day.

In silence for a while, forehead to forehead, as his papa who's been up for ages,

can be heard making us tea and milk in the kitchen.

- What did you dream about, Cassius..?

- Only one thing this time, mamma..! You.

- Yes..?

- Yes. And you were so tiny you could fit inside my head with me.

Our bedroom holds the whole world in moments like this. In our mornings.

The plate with number 40 attest to my latest birthday and a gift given to

celebrate and remember the years, from a French restaurant and my own pappa.

I think of how it's taken me those forty years to start feeling at home

within the shape, the colours, the features I'm born with.

Mostly it has caught up with me, in double march, with the arrival of a boy

in whom I with a direct, natural, undivided and vertiginous insight

see the beauty of that slightly flat nose, the somewhat longer distance

between the eyes, the wild and shadowy rye blonde,

the gap between the front teeth. He didn't come in time to deter 

me from changing away my gap, the one where I could slide a coin in.

{But then I also laugh so much more and no longer hide my smile},

however, I have hope that, with him and in his first time, I can start

feeling at home in the body that has also carried his.

I wrote it down somewhere, the answer that with just one word,

as that was the task, to me describes what motherhood is.

Homecoming.

A return to that which is elementary and also essentially me.

A circle back, for better and for worse, to myself being that small.

An arrival home in him and all at once in me.

A recovery of what is most important.

What did you dream..? 

Good morning sun.

Look how beautiful the light is now.. before the rain comes.

I love you.

the photograph on the wall was a gift from the most beautiful anna malmberg |
cassius's perfectly tobacco coloured {+ beige} bedding in organic,
softest ever stonewashed cotton is from danish favourite,
the little shop okounger focused on ecology and sustainability |
and the boy.. did i actually take part in making him..?