The Kitchen

How can I tell you

the things that happened here

in this space

my body, hips and stomach

leaning, white wood on gray concrete,

for it amazed me 

(the way mothers are amazed by

their love,

disarming them completely), 

the way she moved 

with such happiness,

delight in her small body,

dancing to music we played,

and her ability to climb

up to the kitchen counter 

from the stool and press up against

her brothers’ shoulders while

their little hands gripped avocado for a snack.

And now I stand there, both myself and

watching myself

amazed at my capability to love

with an intensity that would surely kill me

except it saves me too 

and I am so grateful, 

praying with all those years—

help me love better—

that my love wasn’t what

had to be enough

for us all.