Never be the same again

Our first child never slept unless he was moving.  Which shot my plan to do my PhD while he snored under my desk, to pieces.  It turned out that my friend, Michaela, who brought all her babies to class where they slept under the desk all day, had freakishly sleepy babies.

So, I did a lot of laps of our block. 

One of those laps changed everything.

 

It’s the same again,

and the same again,

and the same again

As I push you down the street

and I just beg you to stay asleep

As we round the corner

and we hit that bloody crack

which jostles you just enough

that when the sun burns full upon your face

it tears you from your sleep.

And you see those flowers

And we have to stop

And I could weep

But we watch, and we watch,

and it feels like bloody hours

“Yes darling, they’re beautiful”

And we watch, and we watch, and we…

watch…

 

As a hangover in a tonne of steel

squeals around the corner

Over the curb, through the dew, through you

 

Your laugh cut short

My scream never ending

Not through the ambulance, the police

The blood, the mess, the breath test.

The tow-truck that took away the car

that took away your life

 

 

 

 

Or would have

If not for that quirky little crack

that nudged you just enough

so that when the sun glowed warm upon your face

and invited you to see the flowers

you did.

And sure, it felt like bloody hours

but we watched, and we watched,

and we watched just a little more

So we watched

as the car squealed across the curb

through the dew

straight through the fence

five feet in front of you

 

And I laughed and I cried

And I danced and I staggered

And I carried you home

And if we do this walk ten thousand times

It will never be the same again.