Won’t You Let Me In?

by | Dec 21, 2019 | Faith, Family & Relationships

I have never been a poet.

My thoughts come out in paragraphs,

not alliterations, allusions, anaphoras and assonance.

But I too prefer writing to speaking.

The time it takes to type slows and smooths the jumbled edges of my feelings.


On the outside I’m scattered and busy and running around…

Making sure everyone is fed…

Cleaning up messes and answering calls at home or at work…

Running up and down hallways and stairs to get everyone what they want…

trying to keep peace where there is always discord…

trying to keep the angry, hurt, self-centered and yelling people calm and happy…

trying to keep us from sinking…

trying to pull us out from a deep pit…

trying to keep just a little time for myself, to calm my own frayed edges…

trying to write the things that are in my heart, to publish the stories that I know I must…


I wake in the middle of the night. Sleep still stinging in my eyes, the aching pulse of too few hours closed.

And there is so much I think I “should” do as long as I can’t sleep.

But all I can think about is you, my baby girl.

How I wish you would let me in.

As your mom I have the right to look inside the window like a voyeur in the night.

But I don’t want to be an uninvited guest in your heart.

I want to have a secret code name that lets me in too.


I want you to know that I see you.

You are more than a piece of play dough for me to mold.

You are beautiful and perfect, inside and out,

even as you roll your eyes, argue and ignore.

I see you and I know you.

And I love you no matter what.

And I don’t think your feelings are stupid, your problems trivial, your drama silly.

And I never mean to discount them or discount you as I try to smooth it over and make you smile.


I always try to jump too fast to the silver lining.

But I’m learning that joy needs sadness too.

I don’t always have to rush in and fix it.

It’s OK to just be sad or angry.

All those ups and downs, those feelings, desires, doubts and questions…

I have felt them too.


And the deepest pain as a mom is to see your baby hurt.

The baby cries and you cry too.

The baby falls and you want to run and scoop her up, cradle her in your arms, rock her gently until everything is OK.

You’re still that little baby whose booboos I kissed.

Only now you squirm away instead of letting me hold you.


I had to let you go much earlier than is normal.

Divorce. My fault. My doing.

I used to cry every time you were at your other home.

So many regrets.

So much of your life I miss.


My heart aches to see your heart aching.

And I wish you would let me in the door.

For just a cup of tea.

Some stories by the fire.

A game? A craft? A recipe?

We don’t have to talk too much.


It’s cold outside peaking in the window.

And I have things to share too.

Won’t you let me in?








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