The telling of the story

I do remember that emotional, early morning,
January 10, 1986,
When the lights were bright enough
In the operating room at Piedmont
For an elderly obstetrician,
And, me, holding your mother's hand
And stroking her temples,
The nurse taking control of the swirl
And wrapping you in a warm cotton blanket
To let me walk gingerly
Around the equipment and the buzz
And stare into your electric blue eyes:
A perfect ten from the beginning.

But they took you from me
For medical reasons and hospital procedures,
Leaving me to fly through the hospital halls
Like some bouncy commercial
With a band and dancers
And a catchy jingle,
Until, bang, through the outer doors
I almost ran over your grandmothers
Who didn't mind at all
But just wanted to listen to the story
For the first time,
To hear about you.

That same story, which got spread around thickly,
Over and over and over,
Until eyes began to glaze over
And people started to wonder
If there was an end to the telling.

But the story didn't end
And here is the last semester
Of your college education
And I am still proud and joyful,
Just like before,
Despite the sadness of your leaving
And the loss of those smiling eyes, now green,
To brighten my rising and my sleeping
And throughout my day, every day.


Happy Birthday, Kate.