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,
athletic,
dependable;
the one
who is outside the box,
surprising,
hilarious;
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.