There were strollers, outgrown, circulated till a wheel fell off.
Anna's infant RockaRoo went to Francesca then to Sophia
who gave it back to Anna when she had the twins.
Travel cribs traveled between homes and the green vest
Sophia knitted for Ming's first was worn by all the next babies.
Onesies, drawstring gowns, snap-legged overalls,
snowsuits, sweatpants, jeans, t-shirts, jumpers,
all sorted, washed, boxed then sent on
till they were sorted, washed, boxed and sent again.
Pj's worn to that silkiest perfection, then worn
wholly through, reluctantly tossed. A blue dress
with applique lilacs was the favorite of each girl
and who knew where the velvet blazer came from,
but it did the job for more than one holiday concert.
Even this year, a photograph of Francesca's youngest in Prague,
handsome in that hand-me-down wool pea coat. Sophia hit reply all:
Our last? No! Well, fits yours better than it ever did mine.

About this poem
"Oh, for that remarkable and complex economy of motherhood. Those back and forth generosities-where one day a mom ferries the kids to the swim meet, or a mom takes your kid off to the movies while you're sick with the flu. And the next week after baseball you have all the kids sleep over. Not to mention the friend with whom you freely have the throw-your-hands-in-the-air-I-surrender discussions of how to manage any of it."
-Victoria Redel

About Victoria Redel
Victoria Redel is the author of "Woman Without Umbrella" (Four Way Books, 2012). She teaches at Sarah Lawrence College and lives in New York City.

***
The Academy of American Poets is a nonprofit, mission-driven organization, whose aim is to make poetry available to a wider audience. Email The Academy at poem-a-day[at]poets.org.


(c) 2015 Victoria Redel. Originally published by the Academy of American Poets, www.poets.org. Distributed by King Features Syndicate