Little One sits-
perched precariously on my one leg. Sitting together,
on our deck. Playing little trucks in sand.
Leans back. States companionably,
“Tell me a story, Mom. ‘Bout Ama and Grandad.”
All by himself. No big sibling speaking, he just repeats.
He’s just two. Two and one month.
I tuck him in tight. Kiss sweet cheek and say,” Long, long ago, when I was a little girl, I went swimming in my Grandma’s pool.”
He grins. “I swimmin’. I put feet in wat-er.” He’s remembering our weekend away in Atlanta.
I breathe deep. Tell him- soon he’ll be swimmin’ at Ama’s and shake head a little to clear away amazement.
Little Ones. The things they say.