Longing

Play with crayons and washable paints with your toddler and wonder when it’ll be your turn; rock your baby who is turning into an evening witch, calculate wake windows, glance at the clock; false alarm, there are still four hours left until everyone is asleep and you can run away.

Hand the baby to another adult in the household; begin to pack your bags hoping no one notices; painted papers, air dry clay, the shoebox with the knife and scissors and glue; toddler spots the color wheel, “what’s that?”; “oh, it’s for grown-ups”; stuff them in a little deeper.

Tell your partner you’ll be taking alone-time after dark, to not wait up; brush your child’s teeth, brush her hair, brush your hairs off the bathroom tiles, brush off the thought of leaving right this instant; lay in bed for cuddles, lift your feet against the sheets to create a womb so your child can curl up at your side while your partner reads about an ice princess for the umpteenth time; imagine yourself with her magical powers to create a castle with the wave of a hand; envy her solitude; stop yourself from pulling up the shed listing for the umpteenth time; brush the wants away and try to feel grateful; at least you’ll have tonight.

Someone’s eyes are getting very sleepy; not hers, not his, uh-oh, it’s yours; sit up quickly to recharge your batteries; double check that your bags are packed and by the door; close your eyes for just a second.

Good morning.

Thank you for reading. Collages made with origami and magazine papers. Prose poem inspired by Girl by Jamaica Kincaid.

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