You know what is the best feeling ever?

Comments (0) Issue 1, Poetry, Writing

By Jacqueline Krozy

Snuggling your loving daughter on the carpet,

staring up at her nightlight,

giving her soft cheeks warm kisses to twinkle little star—

right before she goes to bed…

then returning to her crib before you slumber.

When you enter her room,

See her cuddling her books

You pick her up,

Cradle her innocence over your shoulder.

She reaches for the book in her sleep

And you know why she does it—

Ever since you built her

pastel pink and white bookshelf,

Overlooking the crib’s edge,

It was that very day when you

Witnessed her grow up.  She grinned

While you struggled to tighten

The screws on that plastic case

And then heave, lifting it up,

Like the “Little Engine That Could”

Chugging through the door into her bedroom.


She saw every moment

earlier that day-

When she wanted you to play

you were glued to your psychology textbook,

hunched over the pages like a statue,

ignoring her tiny tugs on your jeans.

She knew what you were doing…

She kissed you on the head, cooing “Mommy”

To let you know how proud she is

Even if she could not say “I love you” clearly,

She kissed it to you.

Every night after you placed her in bed

Squealing and cheering her on, as she turned the stories

Page by page, transfixed by mischievous monkeys,

Awestruck at the moment Hannah is potty-trained,

Her rose-petal cherubic smile

shimmering,  you revel

in that mommy-baby bonding moment—


Soft legs tucked in,

Kissing you on the cheek,

Your arms fastened to her

owl-quilted blanket, swaddling her body

She bids you a shrill bye

And lies awake, before she

Ravages the bookcase,

Pulls each book into her crib

with loud thunder thumps,

Before she retires into the

Pink, foamy fleece blanket,

Covered by a fort of books, and slumbers.


The next morning,

she remembers how hard you worked,

As she helps you put away each story,

proudly points to the goofy barnyard

animals, chirping “book, book”

Softly kissing it and your leg,

As she points to the shelf.


Later, at night, when you look in,

see her 29 month old body,

draped over her piles of stories,

awe overcomes you.

You feel again your body next to hers,

Like the blanket nestled over you both

When you read bedtime stories,

Your body glows.

Silently bowing over her softness,

You thank her with a wet forehead kiss,

Knowing she was the one

who inspired you to read the textbook,

build the bookcase in the first place.

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