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.