We were further along
the same foreshore,
Another view.
The bangs as loud.
The fireworks as dazzling.

But no blue moon.

Transfixed in this moment:
Gracie licking ice cream,
colourful sparks reflected in her fascinated eyes.

Excitement takes settling and sleep longer.
When those eyes finally close,
I mourn once more,
the loss of a mate,
who threw me away.

In bitterness I write fierce angry words,
blunt and powerless on a cold heart.

“To Gracie, I am number one.
That is my gift.
The love of my only child
Raised single-handedly.
Swimming in vomit, wee and poo.
Sleepless nights.
Play. Discipline. Cooking. Housework. Comfort.
Everything.”

“Who to nourish me for such an infinite task?”

“You asked me in bed,
‘How can you be a mother?’
Have I answered your question?
Are five years of solo parenting enough for you?
Rather I ask of you:
‘What father are you?’
Since I am mother and father, both.”

Words unsaid.
Silence abundant.
“It takes time”
A daughter’s love
Surely healing a broken heart.

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