Time for me is not measured in minutes or hours
But in breastfeeds,
nappy changes and
Naps
I don’t think of today, tomorrow or the day after as separate
They are all a big chunk of time
But seasons and years, oh my
Become the painful and miraculous realisation
Of how much my children have grown
And – alas-I have also grown
They don’t fit into their clothes anymore
And their shoes are too small
They form personality and intentionality
I have to leave some assumption about me and them behind
And when it comes to endings and beginnings
They teach me not to think of these as separate either
But to think of them as one hungry caterpillar
Who chases its tail in spiral motions
sedimentary 