I look down, my attention hypnotized by the aimless activity of your precious plump hands,
Our communication is mere sensory perception; but oh, sweet child, what we are able to say to one another.
I long for the moment when words channel those senses into syllables.
Until then, I shall meet each whimper with a mother's knowing interpretation of every change in tone.
You cry: I am instant in nearness...

You need me

I stare into your young questioning eyes.
Trust stares back through ceaseless tears—the result of your first introduction to pain through the loss of something you love.
The goldfish is so tiny: his value to you incalculable.
His cost matches only his size.
How can I tell you what age has taught me so well—that time will heal the hurt. It will even be the bridge to prepare you for crossings of greater loss to come.
But then, I am your assurance ... God's provisional sponge to absorb the hurts of childhood.
We talk of death—I hold you...

You need me

I glance through your half-closed door that is far too often off limits to me.
It's crying time again.
Pain has crossed your hardly-a-child-barely-adult path.
You are struggling on your own for you question my ability to help.
How can I convince you that I understand, having stood at the same bend in the road in my life.
The outward trappings were different; the feelings exactly the same.
As in the young months of infancy, words are no longer a viable means of communication.
You don't think you need me.
I enter your room, the primeval sensory system grabbing both our hearts.
I hold you close, you cry...

You need me

I watch the look in his eyes as they lovingly take possession of yours.
The ceremony is all too short that will start a relationship that will permanently separate you from my protective nest.
You will begin your own home.
The visits will somehow be different now.
I cry: you pass by me handing me a rose that speaks loudly of a most intense love.
Such a fragile symbol.
My heart bare, I discover something...

I need you

You call in the middle of the night.
It is time ... I rush panting for breath to your side.
A new set of plump hands grab at you.
You stare into my eyes; another circle of life is completed.
And once more, there is no need for words...

We need each other!

Copyright © by Sharon L. Patterson