Poetry on missing your children.

I remember when I could read an entire
chapter, some days even an entire book
at one sitting without interruptions.
I remember when I could work for hours
at a time in my study;
the hours were dependent on me
not on nap.
I remember when I knew no one with children
and had no idea what 2T meant.
And I remember when no one called me mommy
and when no little arms wrapped themselves
around my neck, no little kisses or hugs were mine.
And I prefer today.
Handwriting on the Wall.
A weary mother returned from the store,
Lugging groceries through the kitchen door.
Awaiting her arrival was her…