Christmas Dinner

in my country, christmas and mother's day are only a few days apart. i wrote this poem to celebrate both holidays.

When you brought your milk into my mouth, did my hand wrap around your index finger like a cocoon? I heard that’s a thing babies do, a primal instinct--I'd like to imagine it like a wrapped gift that can be opened by a single touch. It is Christmas. That’s probably why. You insisted on putting the Christmas tree on top of the coffee table so it stands taller than it’s supposed to be. You said there is nothing wrong with change. I agree, but I'm still waiting for the tree to fall. That’s just a thing I do. On the floor, near the legs of the table and a bundle of cables, is where you put the gifts. Instead of wrapping paper, this year you put the gifts inside of paper bags. Again, you said there is nothing wrong with change. I agree, but start to wonder what else has changed this past year. That’s a thing we do, changing without the other knowing. You watched me grow from a thing you can only see on a monitor to someone you meet on the screen of your phone, would you say there is nothing wrong with that change too? This distance between us, does it look familiar to you? It is almost dinner time. There’s a car parking in our garage. Soon, we will be around the kitchen island, chatting with our mouths full. For two hours we can act like we have always been sitting this close. Our knees side by side. My shoulder, now standing slightly taller, rubbing against yours. And when you accidentally touch my hand as we both reach for the same plate, I can only hope you recognize the same baby finger, even after so much growing.

Reviews

[Mary Jain]

Nice poem. Have great moments :)