this afternoon
i am astonished by 
the length of your limbs
as you sleep.

time marked by new 
words and phrases,
all spoken in your tiny
but mighty voice. 
new seasons of wind 
and heat, 
your sudden ability to 
withstand the waves.

we are here 
only a moment,
like the sand we form
into volcanoes to
watch dissolve 
in the water
or better yet
watch crumble
under your feet. 

some days we flow
like the river 
without the rocks
some days are 
more turbulent.

my hope is always
that you feel seen
even as my mind races
to make decisions 
about dinner and 
where in this big 
beautiful world 
we should call home.

we’ve just arrived, 
i will say, in each 
new country. 
nothing is constant, 
i will say, in each
new town. 

your home will always be 
your hand in mine,
your head on my shoulder,
you in my arms. 

later, i will explain 
to you 
that you carry this 
tremendous love
inside you. 
home doesn’t come from
a place
belongings
or
a piece of land.

home is where 
you came from
home is where
you will 
go back to.

for now
those soft green hills 
that crayola blue sky
this gold shimmering sea
provide the palate
of your second year.

these fleeting 
but forever days
where i am in perpetual
awe of you
and you, my unwavering
reminder of all that is
fleeting
and forever.

for all that is unending
there is another which 
must be temporary.

save for one
for now
and until forever, 
i will be your home.