With joy: “Mara, she’s walking!” you called, in your own tongue.
I expect I understood as I took my first few fuzzy steps
before I fell on my rear!
Mom arrived in that narrow front room,
head covered in a patterned scarf,
drying her hands on a damp towel, too late.
She and grandpa confirmed then, I’m sure,
this moment – this only moment –
as I gazed at them, through baby-big eyes:
love flowed, in that narrow front room, and joy.
Mary Elyn Bahlert, 2/06/2017