My mornings are spent
Defending critters from each other
And themselves
The Redbird with its broken talon
The fat brown dove bullying its younger mate
The sparrows pecking at my marigold
Having words with the squirrel
I’m once again that little girl
Who roamed the grounds of that old bungalow
Playing out imaginary scenes
Rescuing critters who didn’t want to be rescued
When my life was this one long journey
I had yet to undertake
I hadn’t many friends I could call my own
Who wants to hang around Miss Goody Two Shoes?
And yet I had the best of childhoods
Thanks to that old bungalow
Children will invent games if you’ll let them
I tell the other mothers
As my little girl acts out complete scenes
From movies she recently watched
When her friends would rather play with each other
She doesn’t mind
She goes it alone, for several hours
She is nothing like me
And yet she is
We both learned or knew
How to be friends with solitude
Because we never are alone
When we have ourselves
And an old bungalow
Filled with critters
As a mother stands guard
To fill in the spaces
(c) VedicVerses (Rucha Gokhale)