Senses
By Simone Griffin
@sincerelysimoneg
Will you remember hearing my voice greet you upon waking each day? Good morning, my baby.
Will you remember hearing my voice rise and roar impatiently, tongue spewing out reprimands that ended in repentance? Mommy loses her temper too. I’m sorry, baby.
Or the steady tempo of my voice pleading prayers at your bedside? God, I thank you for this blessing. God, cover and protect him.
Will you remember tasting love in the meals I cooked at the end of long days when I had nothing left to give? Will your tongue crave my Friday morning French toast and the strawberry smoothies I made at just the consistency you liked?
Will you remember my touch? The way I stroked your hair gently, squeezed your hand when you were afraid, grabbed your cheeks in my palms just to study your face—in awe that you are mine? Perhaps, it will be the way I planted kisses on the crown of your head, that you remember. Or the soothing sensation of my hand rubbing your back in circular motions.
Will you remember the safe and familiar smell that comforted you when you nestled against my leaking chest? Will the scent of my favorite soap or lotion linger in your mind? Perhaps, you’ll remember the distinct smell of my coffee wafting upstairs in the early morning hours or my cookies baking in the oven in the evening.
Will you remember the daily glimpses you saw of me? Snapshots of me garbed in a hefty robe, no makeup and unruly morning hair? Will you remember the rare occasions you saw me dolled up for church or work and you called me beautiful? Will you laugh and shake your head when you think of seeing me in constant motion—always serving, never seated, busying myself with dishes and laundry and the weight of the world?
The truth is,
in a world that can make us feel invisible,
Mothers just want to be seen by our children.
We hope you see the good intentions in our hearts on the days we’re less than perfect.
We hope you see us grow old and lean into later life with a bit more serenity.
And when we’re long gone and you’re left grasping for some desperate memory of us—
Making our recipes,
Replaying our voices,
Seeking nostalgia to kiss the wounds of grief—
We only hope that you see us again
In your dreams
And in yourself.
Guest poetry written by Simone Griffin. Simone is a South Carolina native doing life in the Raleigh, North Carolina area. A dedicated wife and mother of two, she spends her days pouring into her household, working as a School Counselor and serving faithfully in her local church. In the margins, she enjoys writing, calligraphy, decorating and any other activity that works her creative muscles. She is the author of Glimmers of Hope: A Devotional Workbook for Navigating the Struggles of Womanhood with Grace. You can find glimpses of her life and words over on Instagram.
Photo by Ashlee Gadd.