Mothering the mother

I hold my first grandson, who is 1 month old in my arms.  His whole face and sleepy frame speaks of innocence and trust. I really have to get used to being called a Grandma now.  The cycle of life loops.  I am transported back to the past, back to time I first held my first born in April.   We stayed in my family's ancestral home during my maternity leave. It was a hot summer month, yet I felt soothed by the  abundance of mango, papaya and banana trees around the house.  It was the season of ripeness and the house buzzed with energy. 

As a first time mother, I was excited to dive into my new role.  I followed the doctor's instructions and kept a diary.   If my son would cry or have a bum stomach, my mother and grandmother and I would have a quick meeting and discuss solutions.  It was a "mother's conference only" and I was lucky to benefit from their wisdom.  My mother's wings were wet, but I flew confidently with their wind sails beneath me.     

My son burps his baby, cradling him with strength of giant willow tree.         

chickadees frolic
as tropical heat dries blankets- 
i smell - milk & sunshine -  


Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday, hosted by Jilly.   
Thanks for the visit ~