On Becoming an Imperfect Mother

The younger stands in his underwear, his tongue contorting the way it always has when he concentrates. He paints one of the keys with the blue nail polish, the other with the green. The little crease in his lower belly leaves a pink imprint of a line when he straightens up. As I lie on my bed and gaze at him, I think also of his older brother’s belly, so long and skinny that there is no wrinkle when he leans over, a permanent washboard. I used to tickle him when he walked by without a shirt on, and he would falsetto shriek. Now he towers over me when he comes home from university, but I still stroke his neck when he’s sitting next to me, or touch his fingers as they rest on the table.

The rest of this text is available at the following address:

https://gutsmagazine.ca/on-becoming-an-imperfect-mother/

On Becoming an Imperfect Mother.” Guts Canadian Feminist Magazine. May 2015. Online.