fully their own

It’s no wonder I’m thinking laundry can wait til morning.
Sleet bouncing on the rooftop is for pajamas, yawning, soft music
letting legos in their piles be uniquely organized floor ornaments
I walk around on the way to gathering another brownie,
a second cup of coffee, my breath in one large motion
before sitting again beside the space heater
beneath a crocheted lap warmer.
Dark comes so early, whispering, “Slow down, listen,
look up and see the children grow, a little more amazing,
every minute.” I do stare so long each one asks, “Mom, what?”
I smile, just barely remembering we once shared a body,
but aware like lightning that these children
are fully their own, a sweet gift indeed.