your rosy cheeks, maybe,
or your soft hair, flipped in curls at the ends
or your little sweet toes, the ones that you won’t let me bite
— I don’t know. Something made me stop and look at you.
Maybe it was your red eyelashes
or your rosebud mouth.
Maybe it was the way you were curled up with yeowandmeowmeow, from whom you are lately inseparable
or the way your shirt was up just high enough that I could see your bellybutton.
I looked at you and I wondered how many more afternoons I would be able to lay down with you and watch you sleep. And I felt extremely sad.
Because I will miss this you.
I will miss the roundness of you. I will miss the way you run. Everywhere. The tum-tum-tum-tum of your footsteps.
I will miss the why? and the parroting and the following and the helping that you do.
I will actually miss the independence, and the let I do it.
I will miss the way you carry jelly cat around in the crook of your elbow, and the way you are the baby and I am the mama.
I don’t know if I will miss the shrieking. Or the nose picking that you pretend you don’t do.
But I will definitely miss this you.