i’m trying to do the right thing
and put my phone down
to experience the joy of motherhood in real-time
but without my phone, there’s only memory
and that bitch left me years ago
i wish i was recording
when my son kissed my shoulder
in a taxi in Split before sunrise
it was cramped, three of us tucked into the backseat
i was staring out the window, and there it was
warm and wet on my skin
he smiled and i smiled
and that was it—a blip—fated to fade
like sand back into the sea
cut to an old scene—
we were at the lake for the weekend
taking turns jumping off the pier
in a voice still experimenting with sound,
he garbles, this way mom-my,
and holds out his hand for me
heart, i think after every play
i relive it over and over again
and still, i miss(ed) it
Jessica Sprinkel 