I struggle still
to speak each of their languages.
You’d think I’d have it
down by now
for each work in progress,
each work of art--
the one who loves the center,
works with his hands, dreams and speaks in fantasy;
the one who is soft-spoken,
the one who is outside the box,
the one who is competitive, but tender,
and memorizes more than I’ve ever remembered.
All of them, in the way sons
have a heart for their mothers,
have given me more,
times four, to love
and to dream of
than what I could have alone.
© 2016 Jennifer Wagner
“C’mon, guys, it’s the least we can do--we walked out of her stomach and stepped on her dreams.” --words of my eldest son to his brothers after I asked them to pose for a photo they were less than thrilled to pose for. I laughed so hard.