OURS ARE fifteen, thirteen, and nearly ten
Thus you forget
The constant chatter
The wonder
The inquisitiveness
The trust
The tiny steps
The uncertainty of speed
The forming of new words
The overuse of familiar ones
The inflections
The playfulness
The need for naps
The crawling over
The bravery in climbing
The heavy diapers
The tiny laughter
The nonsensical
The infatuation with animals
The love of dolls
The sleepy eyes
The softness
The bed head
The babbling in the morning
The humming and singing
The hugs and snuggles … of the two-year-old
The knowledge that each new day is a blank canvas
The hope that love is in the paint
© 2015
Andrew Spradling 