Holding On

I wonder what happened to the winter months when I opened my baking cupboard almost every day to create something wholesome or sweet for my loved ones to eat: homemade braided bread, oatmeal cookies, kahlua cakes, whole wheat coffee cake. I wonder what happened to the Monday mornings when I woke up with a smile and thought, This could be the week when I get my house clean. I wonder what happened to the summer afternoons when I took naps with my sons, cuddled together in the humid warmth of the sun and their little bodies. I wonder what happened to the nights when the babies woke up for the fourth time, and I sleepwalked to the living room with their tiny bodies in my arms, their little lips wrapped around my breast for mother's milk and mother's love. I wonder what happened to the years when my boys wore baby-sized clothes and I dressed them in the pumpkin Halloween sleeper, the velvet midnight blue overalls, the white sweater baptism outfits. I wonder what happened to the day when I cried tears of joy as the orderly pushed me to the going-home exit of the hospital, with a real, breathing, beautiful baby boy in my arms.

I want to go door-to-door in my neighborhood, asking each mom if she feels like she is floating, treading water, or holding on to driftwood as the current of daily life pulls her under.