Chaos and cardigans

There's no preparing oneself

what will it be like
to be a mother?
no one tells you 
it will be chaos
and cardigans
on laundered repeat,
clamor and 
crumbs 
blowing through
season after
slippery season,
a gingerbread
funhouse cum
poignant house of horrors 
that 
never 
quite
ages out.

what size mama 
do you wear? 
dang there’s 
no shoe for that
so best plan to 
build your own
costume 
for every new
gathering:
capes crinoline 
crowns chainmail 
ready-to-wear for
playground 
friendbuilding,
IEP faceoffs,
Geico quotes,
six-hour
swim meets.

there’s no preparing oneself
for the maternal 
vortex, the upsweeping
transcendence of life
beyond the grave of self:
sleep that never sleeps
again properly,
but hovers at the edge,
waiting for 
the creak of the stair
the touch of the shoulder
the release of the spirit
back from the edge
of nightmare with 
a sweet, warm breath:
mom i’m home.

---

Poem 23 of 31 in the series “The Liminal Season.”

Today’s word prompt came from my dear friend (and fellow mom of adult children) Jane Dunlop. Her prompt was “chaos and cardigans.” I think she might have originally meant it as two different ideas, but I wrote it down as one and this was the result!