For Just This One Minute

a poem from new motherhood

It’s seven in the morning,
though that doesn’t mean much;
night and day are a blur
with four-month-old twin babies
who both have colds.

They are precious,
but I am exhausted
from steering this runaway train
of diapers and daycare forms,
bottles and baby snot,
car seats and instant coffee,
which I’ve had to start drinking again
to get through the workdays.

But here in this moment now,
for just this one minute,
all is quiet. 

One baby snores softly
in her car seat beside me.
Her twin is in the nursery,
snoozing in the arms of her dad,
who also fell asleep while feeding her.
The cats have been fed too;
they are now grooming in their respective spots.

Soon I’ll have to get up and tackle
the next most pressing thing;
but for just this one minute,
no one urgently needs me.

The sun slides through
a green glass bowl
on the bookshelf by the window
and touches my face
where I sit on the couch with my mug.

I breathe. I let my mind wander
to poetry,
for just this one minute.

I suddenly remember
that we’ll be okay.