Fragments of memories scatter across the floor,
as images of different lives and loves are suddenly Seen.

Preteen siblings fighting over food,
pushing each other to the side as they attack
the chips and dip.

Last minute rushing into the car yelling,
“Go, go, go! Maybe we will pass the bus on the way there!”
as backpacks are tossed into the van.

He’s five and on the sofa asleep,
face pressed against the canvas
as he drools in peace.

She is eight and struggling over homework at the kitchen table,
angrily penciling and erasing the same math problem
over and over as the sun starts to set.

I am waking at three a.m. again
because she’s screaming with either hunger
or teeth or change. It doesn’t matter because I’m there.

It is a long morning already and not even five as I rock
back and forth, singing “Won’t you please go back to sleep?”
my new prayer-turned-hymn I practice.

They ignore my stare of shooting daggers
through the rearview mirror as the siblings in a rare moment
are working well together. Way too well…

I remind the two to hold mommy’s hands as we cross
the worn dirt parking lot
to our favorite picnic table at the beach as we arrive on time for lessons.

A preteen girl who struggles to stay awake
when clothes shopping, or is she bored? It’s hard to tell
when she is staying up later.

A ten year old boy whose face lights up when he sees
his best friend at school arrive, and I know for a fact that someday soon
they will somehow end up in the principle’s office
for some weird elaborate plan that left the school secretary
with the difficult job to keep a straight face.

These humans grow with their classmates,
each containing constellations of their own fears and dreams
that I would slowly discover over decades
and still be surprised by them even in my old age.

Then maybe, if lucky, I can see the kids replicate themselves,
to see in them family, friends, and loves long passed
as I at last fade
into the hazy summer dream
of a long, curious life.