Mother to Son Litany

Mother to Son Litany

You are the song on my lips,
The sun in my sky;
You are the love in my heart,
The life in my breath.
You are the ink in my pen,
And the lines on my paper.

You, too, are the thorn in my side,
The crick in my neck,
The spur in my heel,
And the ache in my head.

But I remind myself often,
Sometimes under duress, 
That you are also the bubble in my gum,
    The snap in my fingers. 

Sometimes, you’re the ease in my gait,
And the belly in my laugh,
Or the fleece of my blanket
    On the couch, in front of the fireplace.

You used to be the paint on my brush,
    The baton of my parade,
    And the pillows of my fort on a snow day.
Now, you’re the whistle of a fastball
    And the crack of the bat
    On a hard single
    Hit just to the right of the shortstop.

You’re unbridled and blurry ambition.

You’re a gangly, wet towel left on the carpet,
    An empty milk gallon put back in the fridge,
    A thick smudge of peanut butter on the counter,
    Surrounded by a skirmish of bread crust crumbs.

You’re also a single, smelly sock balled up and left alone on the family room floor. 

And I suppose, 
Someday,
An all-too-soon day,
When you are no longer my wet towels
And peanut butter smudges, 
And when the milk gallon is remains full, 
My heart strings will sing 
Nostalgia,
And you will be a different song on my lips.

But, no matter the tune,
No matter the time,
    No matter the day, and no matter the place,
You’ll always be 
    The sun in my sky,
    The love in my heart,

And the life in my breath.