Those who mean well squawk the refrain—
“The days are long, but the years are short.”

They said I would miss it—
little feet and newborn baby smell
nursing in the wee hours with
a tiny hand clutching mine.

Tying shoes, 
playing tooth fairy, 
soothing scary dreams.

They were fine times, but I do not wish them back.

RELATED: Mamas, Please Quit Mourning Your Children Growing Up

I rather enjoy these days of my baby boy
suddenly looking like a young man
in a baseball uniform 
on a chilly Wednesday in April.

And my Amazonian teenage girl 
with size 11 feet
who towers over me by four inches
and wants to be a surgeon.

And my eldest now a mother too—
thirty-one years old but strangely my original baby
and a new mother all at once.

RELATED: The Echoes of a Mother’s Love Remain After the Kids Are Grown

Their six sticky hands, cuddles,
bedtime stories, and soiled diapers 
have given way to new things.

Harry Potter and Boy Scouts,
prom dresses and driver’s licenses,
marriage and motherhood.

I don’t miss their dependence
and am rather enjoying
becoming less needed, more wanted— 
listening ear and wisdom purveyor.

I am a mother evolving.

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Tracy Gerhardt-Cooper

Tracy Cooper is a New Jersey wife, mom, teacher, and writer. She loves Earl Grey tea, quiet mornings, and autumn leaves. You can read her blog, Earl Grey and Yellow, and follow her work on Medium. 

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