Sarah by Margaret V. Doran

Sarah
Margaret V.Doran

For eighteen years and five months
you have been a part of my every moment.
You have been tears and laughter,
frustration and pride.

We have shared
my experience and your beginnings;
my knowledge and your learnings;
my past and your future.

You have been mountains of laundry,
ironing at the last minute,
sleepless nights and worried days.
You have been an extra mouth I cannot control.

You are funny and stubborn and rude and witty.
You have cost more than I have;
I have wanted to give you more than I could.
Above all, for me, you have been joy.

There is no man in you life
but when there is, I won’t be waiting up
because you will be there and I
will be here.

Your siblings are waiting in line
for your room and your parking space
and your time in the bathroom
and my time which was spent for you.

But for me, your going leaves a void
which will never be filled.
Yet as you pack your things,
I won’t cry. Or maybe I will.

Because, like your mother before you,
you will probably never come back.
My home will be Mom’s and your home
will be wherever your pillow lives.

I will miss you
and your cat and your piano.
You made music in my days and my life
and my heart and my very soul.

And in the delight of your new beginnings,
you cannot possibly understand until,
as many years from now,
your own first-born, your daughter, leaves home.