tuesdays and thursdays, 5:30a-6:30a

we almost never get a good night's sleep. 

someone's husband is snoring as loud as horse, 

one of the youngest is up, 

looking for a comforting snuggle, 

one of them is sick, 

in need of medicine, 

one of them is sleep walking-

the midnight list is never ending-

i guess it must be an unspoken unofficial rule 

for mothers everywhere, 

no matter the child's age, race, gender or ethnicity, 

there is no discrimination against 

keeping a mother awake at night..

but never bother, 

after silencing at least 2-3 alarms, 

we meet up,

the blanket of darkness still floats above us 

as we step outside 

for our early morning walk.

we fumble around with head lamps and flashlights, 

i hold her coffee mug as she bends down 

to tie her boot. 

i wipe my incessant dripping nose 

on my sweater mittens,

the piercing light beaming from my forehead

makes her eyes water, 

but she says nothing, and complains not a word. 

In order for this to work, 

we must walk side by side, 

occasionally, the sound of our crunchy cotton encased elbows 

rubbing against the other

floats between us, 

well, 

between the well of words that flow 

out of us,  

the moment we step out 

into the dark. 

our chins wag and wag, and we really do not 

shut 

up. 

we cover much ground. 

figuratively 

and quite literally, 

covering many mountains of topics. 

parenting, running and owning a business, marriage, sex, babies, 

God, Jesus, broken appliances, immigration, and migraines, 

depression, the moon-

boy, do we love talking about the moon-

he' s usually trailing us, 

luminous and low, gorgeous, 

i just know he giggles to himself, 

listening to us jabbering on and on. 

he is a gentle moon, lending his soft light

as a lantern to our path..

We have truly began to lean fully into 

these walks, relying on them to but not limited to:

improve our mental health, 

enrinchen our life, 

solve our miniature world problems together, 

 "you're too much," your eyes said to me disdainfully. 

"way too much energy," your mouth kept moving. 

i was bewildered and hurt by your words 

because i did not understand how i was displaying 

too much of anything when i was simply 

showing warmth and kindness to you 

after not seeing you for a long time. 

i remember now, why that is. 

you continued to tease and laugh at me, 

making me feel smaller and smaller, 

i wished i could disappear right there on the 

spot, but i just stood there against the wall, 

hoping it would swallow me up. 

you must have noticed my discomfort 

slightly,

because you proceeded to grab my head and yank it 

against your chest, my hair spilling out of your fingers, 

and you laid a sloppy kiss on my head. 

i hated every second of that. 

what were you saying about too much?

I mumbled i needed to go get a drink, 

anything but be here, after feeling verbally insulted 

and uncomfortably accosted..

i blindly made my way over to the high top table 

and there in front of the Lacroix, 

my tears started to spill. 

I stood there, as another kind friend stood with me, 

making me feel less alone, as i tried to gather myself. 

i could not. 

so i excused myself, trying to leave the room 

as the smell of taco meat and lime wafted in the air

oblivious to my plight. 

I escaped to the prayer room, 

and tucked myself behind the curtain 

finally allowing the dam to break. 

i realized why her words cut me so much. 

it was a trigger from high school and middle school 

from being told those very same words 

countless times. 

"you're too much."

"way too loud and energetic."

"settle down."

"tone it down."

all of this and more translated to me, 

you are taking up too much space 

and you don't deserve to do so.

indirect preference signaling: 
when someone chooses you 
in small deniable ways without crossing
a line that they can't walk back.  

 i love having fat conversations with you. 

ben came lumbering in, 

splattering his long limbs 

all over the gray couch