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2020-09-13T21:02:24-04:00September 9th, 2020|Parenthood|

Do you want to draw with me?

Every morning,
she asks me,

Mama, will you draw with me?

It is an invisible thing
like breath,
something I expect
but hardly notice.

Some days I draw with her,
but most days I don’t.

Yet, I know
one day soon,
I will wake up
and she will not ask.

This will not count
as a tragedy, of course,
but still a small part of me will die,
the part of me that will notice
that this invisible thing
like breath,
is gone.

I will reach for it,
in that devastatingly optimistic way,
that drowning people do,
confused that something invisible,
something they expected
but hardly noticed,
is suddenly all they want.

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