The M.O.M Project/ musings on motherhood
Written by women of Uxbridge and compiled by AnnaMacKay-Smith, The Mom Project was a show with nearly sold out performances. The writers became actors and told their stories through song, poetry and monologues. It was a very powerful and sacred experience to unite as woman and hear stories of courage, hope, forgiveness, happiness, loss and love. We created a tribe of women who beat to the drum of Mother Earth.
My contributions were dedicated to my beloved brother who lived a very short life here on earth and the other to my energetic, spontaneous 4 year old son who is the life blood of my soul.
White Sheets of Heaven
White sheets of heaven
The April wind blows
White blood cells are dying and nobody knows
Three siblings are anxious and don’t understand why
Never enough time to play and look at the sky.
White sheets of heaven
Nurses all through the night
Rock him to sleep until he wakes at dawn’s light
Time to say our goodbyes until the next life
Please bundle him tight under these wintry skies
White sheets of heaven
The color of snow was chosen the coffin
For your tired body to go
Earth is a moment,
A short melody
Now shepherds are waiting with hands out to thee
White sheets of heaven
The hole in my soul
Wrap your crisp arms around me and never let go.
Hands Please
I think I have an obsession with nails. Not the ones you hammer, but the ones on the precious little hands of children. In fact, I don’ like them all clean and clipped, ready for grandma’s house. I like to see them with extended whites and dirt layered underneath. Dirt under a little boy’s nails shows a successful day of playing in the mud.
When it comes to bath time, I look forward to wrapping my son in a nice warm towel, plopping him on the counter and saying, “Hands, please.” I love to trim his nails and gently clean the thread-thin darkness away. I squeeze goat milk cream onto his hands and massage each finger, palm and wrist.
Before the clippings are swished away with water, I reflect on the crest moons of growth before me. The monthly and yearly milestones are more obvious. I know he is growing every moment, every day, every week, but fingernails are my small indicator that nourishment is being absorbed and my little boy is growing up millimetre by millimetre.
