the babysitter

My baby sits

on the kitchen floor,

waving backwards

while I put on my coat,

tears welling in her eyes,

rolling down her cheeks

silently. We have a new

sitter and my baby girl

needs weeks with a person,

sometimes years

to feel close, to feel

cared for, cuddled, safe.

*  *  *  *  *

This is only the beginning.

She’s not even one

but she knows

this is not

what she wants.

My heart breaks

in two,

in five,

in twelve

I need

to be strong,

offer love and

smiles and

reassurance and

I am and

I do, but

my heart breaks, too.

*  *  *  *  *

So when I pull out my

phone ten years later

and text our favorite sitter

to see if she’s home

for the summer,

it is light in the sky

and birds in my heart

I hear

when she says:

YES.

*  *  *  *  *
National Poetry Writing Month
30 poems in 30 days