inch by inch

Sometimes I think of the boys like seed packets 
but maybe with the labels rubbed off?
Our job to feed and water, to send them out for sufficient sun
to try hard to get the conditions right
to cross fingers and whisper prayers
and then to wait.

If vernal pools and sailing camp and swim team count as water
and strawberry shortcake counts as dinner
this garden of delight may do alright.

Science suggests talking kindly to plants helps them thrive.
May my words go through his AirPods or his ball helmet or his mop of hair
directly into his brain
and bounce around, like a pollinating bee.

Thank goodness I do not tend alone;
I do it with their father and our extended family, with their teachers and coaches and this community
nourishment as a group project.

I try not to waste any nurturing on a grudge list or regrets, on any of the weeds in my own head.
I try to remember that I'm not aiming to work any wonders, the boys already ARE wonders.

It's not really clear to me yet who they are becoming
but I like watching them grow
reaching toward dimensions of possibility I may not have even imagined.
I know transformation doesn't come in gigantic, earth-shaking waves
but in small, almost imperceptible shifts
in the slow unfurling.

And I know the sun will come up in the exact right place again tomorrow.

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