I Remember the Four of Us

 I remember the four of us.

It wasn’t perfect.

I know that.

How would things be perfect with four individuals with strong personalities,

their own ideas of what life should be,

and no idea of where they were headed?

But there were so many perfect moments.

Moments where the world was left behind,

and we laughed and played.

We explored.

We were present at each other’s accomplishments.

But that is now so long ago.

And tonight, as I listen to Heaven by Jacob Collier and cry,

I remember life before you.

I had nothing.

You became my everything.

And regardless of how you came into this world,

you were loved and cherished from day 1.

I prayed for your life.

I sang to you while I stroked my belly

and whispered how I longed to see your little hands and feet.

And when you came into the world, and I held you for the first time,

I cried at the fear of fucking up.

You were the only reason I stopped swearing for 12 years.

And I know the old house has burnt down.

But you’re still my heaven.

And although words have been exchanged.

And I haven’t been the mother I thought I was.

I still speak to you at night.

I still pray for you and yours.

And I am grateful I got to be your mom.