Today, you are three,
So much life in such little time…
growth no longer feels cyclical,
preserved innocence, benign.
As the third of the bunch movement is constantly unfolding,
Feeling sorrow for the missed carpet playtime,
stories, and playdough molding.
It’s so fast
and yet unbearably slow.
Painful duality of motherhood:
grow, but don’t go.
Need me, but not so much
please be somewhat independent
the only experience so grounding
while being transcendent.