My brother had two kids before me. A boy who knows
everything and a girl in a sunflower dress.
Before the birth of my son, I would ask about his day.
What new words did the children learn today? What books
are they reading now? What’s for dinner?
He’d reply succinctly: same shit, different day.
My son’s a year old. We no longer have those Facetimes.
Instead, we complain about the pandemic,
the cost of wheat, the price of inflation. We worry about
#adulting so they can worry about nothing.
We comb their hair, warm their food, read them a stack
of books by Eric Carle and hope their world
will have no war. We hope they will have
butterflies and caterpillars that are never hungry.
© Elisa Wei 2022