Not a Breeder

I guess it’s too late to be a grandma
Too late to make cookies, brownies, pies
to spoil the kids of the kids who will never
come knocking on Thanksgiving morning
or in the swelter of fourth of July or their birthdays
or a random Sunday Cowboys’ game in October
I guess it’s too late
to be the grandma of the smartest, most gorgeous
grandbabies to ever set foot on earth
too late to be grammie, or ama, or mamaw or gran or meemaw or lala
too late too late
unless lonely poems
suddenly start breeding.



The funny thing about being human is that we live constantly within the conflict between two (or more) desires and dreams. I want to be clear; I don’t usually feel this way, but there is a little part of me that sometimes feels it and whispers around the other thoughts in my head. At those times, I wish I’d had babies back when I was sixteen or seventeen and didn’t know anything at all. Twenty days out of twenty one, I’m so so glad I didn’t . . . but then again. I blame Napowrimo’s prompt for today. ~LD


5 thoughts on “Not a Breeder

  1. I, too also feel this way. Actually, very few of my friends opted to breed. I’ve often wondered why. I know that I’m glad that I don’t have children in today’s world: I hate the restrictions placed nowadays on parents, children, and families. But sometimes I wish….

    • That “other path” thing is sometimes hard to reconcile. Ever read Richard Bach? Those thoughts always remind me of his novel _One_.

  2. Pingback: An Afternoon: a broken haiku from an ersatz Gran — NaPoWriMo #8 | Inky Highway Oasis

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