True North
By Erin Mount
@erinhmount
My mother-heart is stretched across two lands.
The land of my youngest is filled with bedtime snuggles
and tickle fights,
incessant chatter, and a thousand “I love you’s”
sprinkled across the day.
Her temper flashes without warning
and is just as quickly extinguished by giggles.
Her legs spill over the boundary of my lap,
but she wants to sit there anyway.
When she’s upset, she still runs to me,
gangly arms outstretched.
She leans into my hugs.
The land of my oldest is filled with hair products and eye rolls,
secrets with friends and car-ride conversations.
In between asking for clothes and rejecting
all my ideas, there is that smile
I fell in love with fourteen years ago.
I can make her mad
and make her laugh all in the span of sixty seconds.
When she’s upset, she might cross her arms
and say she’s
FINE,
everything is fine, but slowly she
finds
her way to me.
The words pour out in pace with the tears
that line her cheeks. Her back stiffens
then relaxes as I hug her.
In both lands, I am shrinking every day,
and the places my daughters explore without me multiply.
I stare at their faces, willing myself to remember
their geography—the freckle she has
by her mouth that mirrors my own, the impish grin
her sister gets when she is making mischief,
the tan legs they both have even in the dark
of winter. How do I make sure they
remember my geography? How do I know
they will always find their way back home?
I must remind them
of all the important landmarks.
I stretch my heart still wider, urging it
to encompass all they are becoming.
I will myself to be their True North,
guiding them home no matter where they
wander.
Guest poem written by Erin Mount. Erin lives in West Tennessee with her husband, two girls, and a very entitled dog. When she's not working as a grant writer and event planner for a local nonprofit, she's driving her daughters all over town, reading a good fiction book, or enjoying her favorite past-time: napping. Her writing has been published by Fathom Mag and (in)courage, and Erin writes consistently on her Substack.
Photo by Jennifer Floyd.