I try to form their circle, linking fingers as quickly as they lose hold.
Long and skinny hands envelope chubby toddler knuckles, all growing into the shape of my husband’s or mine.
After pulling away and reaching back again and again, they are finally one.
Stepping aside, I sing for them as they turn together.
Ring around the rosie
Pocket full of posies.
Each glances my way, proudly belting out the version they have decided correct.
Tiny feet trace the floor, concentrating on their role,
on each other.
We all fall down.
Finishing their song, I watch them float to the ground.
Again, again they ask.
We continue this dance and I can’t help but notice,
someone is always standing at the end, pulling the others up for one more time around.
A gift they bring to each other.
Their carefully fashioned circle, where someone is always standing.
As they stumble through life I can only hope I have woven their circle strong enough.
I hope their hearts stay linked and their hands outstretched,
ready to pick each other up when they fall.
I’m thrilled to be sharing a part of our infertility journey with Mamalode today. Have I ever mentioned how much I love that place? You must visit, if not to read my story, to read the many talented writers who leave their words there.
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