a mother summer

Today, my children like me. My children like me today. If they are their mother's sons, there is a long winter coming: months and years of freezing me out, calling me condescending but mostly innocuous names, and avoiding my eyes, to say nothing of my hugs and kisses. But now is the summer of their affection for me and I won't let these sunny days be wasted. When the heat of their utter dependence and need makes my skin slick with sweat, I will remember to breathe in the warm air and hold it somewhere safe for a colder day.