Member-only story
In the Early Winter Morn
on time and childhood
4:32 a.m.
you
are eight years old — or,
as you keep reminding me,
only two years away
from being two digits
and halfway
to getting your driver’s license
school can be a dangerous place these days
what with the teaching of addition and all
not to mention, your telling us of the time
(time and time again)
fueling your love of all things numerical
but at eight years old
and at 4:36 a.m.
i will never tire
of watching you slumber in the fetal position
your hands
the ones that deftly control the Wii
and your life
now silently curled under your chin
folded as if in a prayer that is mine
I squelch the to-do list
of all that I could accomplish
in the here and the now
in these small hours
and instead close my eyes — just for a moment
still wondering of the minutes and
calculating the numbers like an accountant…
