• Marya Kazmi

The Moment

Updated: Feb 4

Written April 1, 2018

Etched in the memory is the image of floating colors as sheets parachute above our heads. Your tiny hands grasping my chest searching for the warm familiarity of my skin. Your eyes gazing at me then darting back to the shroud that covers us. This warm comforting moment. Just Mama and Kaiya. No one else is and can be here or feel what we feel. Connected, playful, loved, and at peace.


Your hand lifts and swats the sheet, rippling the paisley patterns and letting the rays of light cast through the spaces between the gaps of woven fabric. Kaiya lays uncharacteristically calm for the nineteen months and counting she’s been here. I savor the moment of stillness. Leaning into the tug of war that is our familiar battle to claim control of me.


This is a moment in motherhood. The ones I savor when not anxiously awaiting bedtime. The morning hours of sunlight and a pause before the day begins. Just me and you and the quiet stillness before the rustling begins. I live for this, for your smile through your clenched grip on my breast and your tiny hands caressing my belly in search of the other one to grasp. Symbiotically tied by the rhythm of our heartbeats.

Then suddenly you pull away detached and ready for freedom. Emerging from snug comfort of the sheets to the chill of the open air. Abruptly leaving behind the moment, our time, my security.


Goodbye my love, until we claim the next one.

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