#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Waking up was a challenge. I missed the hour we lost. Forced myself up to surprise my daughter, born 30 years ago today, with flowers and a birthday balloon. And breakfast, if she wanted. Groggy, fuzzy headed all day. She did not want breakfast, but I offered to make her a BLT for lunch, and she enjoyed very much that offer, delivered to her desk. My legs, very tired, said, let’s walk, rather than swim, and I agreed. Charlie and Suzi were also glad. We set off for a long ramble. It was cool, not terribly cold, and some of the brook ice returned. We walked for five miles in the woods, meeting only one or two others. What joy it has been to bring this daughter into the world. And now, she knows motherhood too, its challenges and rewards. I have a busy week ahead, conducting workshops and events, and had a lot of prep. I canceled out of poetry tonight, knowing that we would want to have an unhurried dinner after work with our daughter. Cake and presents. Thirty years ago, she and I stayed one night in the birthing center. My son came to meet his sister for the first time. And I felt the joy-grief a mother feels when she brings a second child into the world because she is so thrilled to have her newest one in her arms. But the first one will not have her eyes and hands and heart all his, all to his own, ever again. It’s a pang that resolves soon after. But, there it is, that first meeting, and must be felt.