Came too fast.
When just yesterday you were so tiny and new. Against my skin till the last slip of the afternoons those first few lazy weeks in May, while your dad was home to keep the world downstairs running it's routines without need or attention to us.
And here now, a year and a half later still curled up to me every morning before the rest of the house wrestles awake to catch time with another day. My small, sleepy boy warm and content by my side for the better half of that first dark hour, that we both know still belongs to you. Bones stretched, skin soft, thin blonde tufts against my cheek. Then fiercely a toddler by breakfast. Hot temper and destructive hands spilling dog food, smashing bananas. Screeching out in place of words you cannot find yet. Fighting for your toys, fighting for your brother's toys, a battle for autonomy amidst the reckless ways of a loud and restless household you arrived most determined to fit in with.
One finger tells me your age. A dog barks, a cat cries. A bird is a bird. A moon is a moon.
And the faces in the photos on my dresser make you smile.
18 months come and gone just as fast as they arrived sweet. With those familiar blue eyes already steadying themselves on what's up ahead, just a' ways outside of this step in time. That shall too come to pass too quickly for mothers to find fair.