In a conversation with my 19 year old son today, he told me, “You inspired me . . . ”
And
I did not hear the words that came after
because my brain latched onto those 3 words
I looked at his sisters and brother,
“Will y’all carve that into my gravestone?” I asked
She once inspired her son.
Feeling vaguely pleased with myself
until I realized that I had rudely stopped
hearing my son, interrupted him even.
Chagrinned, “I’m sorry, you were still talking but I was not listening. ”
He said, “I said that you inspired me to get back to work on building that table for my elements collection.”
She once inspired her son to build something.
I just want to lay in this small puddle of contentment,
happy that in this one breath,
I inspired my child to create,
rather than to fracture or tear down.
Prairie Sings 