I rocked my baby tonight

I rocked my baby tonight.

I really wanted to read more of Dick Francis’ The Edge.

and to shop for vintage books online.

I wanted to research Alfred Meakin’s Denmark china pattern, circa 1891

or sew Olivia’s windmill quilt and to fancy different ways to quilt the final product.

But I rocked my baby instead.

I should have unpacked from our Labor Day trip to the cabin,

or emailed a woman about starting a Book Club.

Perhaps paid some bills

and put a clean handtowel up in the bathroom.

But I rocked my baby instead.

I rocked her because every time I rock her in her light blue room,

I look at her half-open doorway with faint light spilling in from the hall

and see a 20-year-old girl standing there,

looking at me, saying,

“Mom, have you seen my book?” or “Mom, can you drive me back to college tomorrow?”

And I realize that one day

I will never rock my baby again.