Bitch, I Mothered

If I were my Mother’s, Mother
I’d read her bedtime stories.
Sing her our ancestors’ songs
Give her Besos and hold her until she fell asleep-feeling safe.

I’d teach her how to ask for what she wants and thank her when she does.

I’d hold her every time she cried.
Every single time.

If I were my Mother’s, Mother
I’d teach her how to do her hair.
I’d teach her to cornrow, french braid, twist & moisturize.
I’d let her straighten her hair when she got older.

If I were my Mother’s, Mother
I’d teach her how to reach within her belly and breathe.

If I were my Mother’s, Mother
I’d take her to the park and push her on the swing.
I’d plan play dates with Moms who annoy me.
I’d take her on walks and let her collect pine cones after they had fallen from the
trees and show her the helicopter leaves.

If I were my Mother’s, Mother
She would grow up relaxed.
She would grow up knowing, Mothering her was calming. Healing even. She would get to
be a child.
She would know emotional freedom.
She would recognize peace.

If I were my Mother’s, Mother
These curses might not be so hard to break. Change might not be so hard to stand on.
It might even feel
Safe.

If I were my Mother’s, Mother
I’d Mother her how she Mothered me.

If I Mothered my Mother that way,
maybe her best would’ve been good enough.

Yet here I am Mothering anyway. ~k.C

Best,
Kayla Calvin