changing p(l)aces

a poem on the death of my nanny, and the birth of my baby

Read the story about it here.

I haven’t told her yet,
But at home she would say:
‘‘Oh, frigg off!’’
With a huge smile on her face.

I am holding her hand but it keeps darting away.
I barely remember a time when her hands didn’t shake.
But I remember when feeding herself didn’t make her cry,
I remember the fire that lived behind those eyes.

I used the spoon for her today,
Then put it back into her hand
Because she is the grown-up
And I am the baby.

But you are the baby
That she will never spoon-feed rice pudding,
Or bounce up and down on her knee,
Or backhand for sassing and apologize to with candy.

I haven’t told her yet,
But she will finally be getting some sleep soon,
And when she wakes up,
She will be so happy to see you.

I will make up a couple of my missed weeks in the next few days. These feelings are all still so raw, and terribly sticky to try and work with. Forgive me.

♡ Hal

This time, there is no ‘‘share post’’ or ‘‘subscribe’’ button. If I can encourage any call-to-action, it’s this: go spend some time with someone you love. Maybe you’re putting off that visit or phone call out of guilt for not doing it sooner, but that hug or ‘‘I love you!’’ text will mean so much more one day when you won’t be able to anymore. ‘‘One day’’ always comes sooner than we expect. Love someone out loud today.