Lying naked on my chest,
clean and smooth after a bath,
the sky a dusky cornflower blue.
“What’s in here?” Pearl asked,
tapping on my breast bone.
“That’s my heart,” I told her.
“You can hear it beating.”
She paused.
Some moments passed quietly.
“Your brain is in there?”
“No, my heart. Can you hear it?”
She listened again,
then lifted her head and looked at me.
“Sometimes I don’t know what our hearts are,”
she said.
I teared up.
“Sometimes I don’t know either,”
I told her.
“You don’t have to know. Just listen.”
And she fell asleep
to that ancient mama music,
the crickets outside keeping time.
From the mouths of babes…
sweet sweet Pearl–may your wisdom never leave you.
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Lovely.
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Wise Pearl.
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What a beautiful moment.
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we’ve been listening to each other’s hearts around here… little heads on my chest, my hand on little chests…
it’s good practice.
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love you, love your family. love this so much.
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This is beautiful, Jena. Wow.
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Yes, lovely indeed.
So perfectly spoken by your sweet daughter –
and perfectly answered by her sweet mother.
Keep on listening, Jena.
So will I.
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this is so beautiful. thanks you so much.
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I meant THANK you. but many thanks are in order, after all.
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