Do you remember those baby toes,
Pink and soft, that you tickled?
The rosebud mouth that puckered on your finger,
And lisped the syllables only nature understood.
Fluffy dresses, soft as pink clouds, tickling chubby ankles,
Can you think of those days of pattering feet,
Echoes ghosting the halls, and a little girl
Chattering in the walls, do you remember?
I remember your jeans, blue and rough,
That I would sit on and the smell of your work shirts,
All sawdust, hard work, love, and joy.
My baby hands on your chin, feeling
The roughness when you hadn’t shaved.
Running up behind you, hooking my hand
In your jeans pocket or the feel
Of your hands, bigger than the world,
When they held mine.
That time I did wrong
And had to call you
At work to tell you.
I cried before you even answered
Heard the disappointment
In your voice and my world ended.
That time I was crying in bed
And trying not to let you hear.
But you came and sat with me,
And didn’t speak, but were my mountain,
My eagle, and just were.
Nothing could hurt me again.
When you came to tell me goodnight,
And thought I was asleep,
And put your hand on my head.
Brushing hair from my face,
You called me baby that night.
I remember, even if you don’t.
About the Author:
Name: Greta Slabach
Age: 18 (senior)
How many years have you been apart of TPS?
This is my first year with TPS.
What classes are you taking with TPS this year?
What are a few of your hobbies?
I enjoy reading, writing, drawing, and watching people.