Baby and Tomatoes

Today I wanted to share with you the exciting and quite frankly terrifying news that in the next week or so I will be introducing baby number three to the family.

Yes, as you may not already know, I have now finally arrived at the very end of that 9 month growing-another-human-being thang. I’m tired, and a little over the being kicked part. I know that this will be nothing compared to the exhaustion that comes with the “actually having baby in the room” part that is coming up, so I’ve forgone my usual 5am starts in favour of staying in bed as long as possible.

So this week I have been a little quiet on all fronts – and I wanted you to know that this, like everything, is only temporary.

In the meantime, I offer this little poem – I wrote it in honour of my grandmother, whose image pops into my head whenever I smell a tomato on a vine. I hope you enjoy it.

In My Grandmother’s Garden

My squinted eyes could barely see, the sun
Heavy on my grandmother’s skirted knee
Bent hemmed in a rose polyester dress,
In front of my nose.

She would grow tomatoes like vineyards.
Me in their shade, ripening slowly,
Smelling so much red I could sense my
Head begin to blush, and

My short stumpy fringe delicately
And hairily extend to green stalks.
My toes took root through my sandals and
Fed my well-filled cheeks.

They hung heavily red from my head
And she would pick them each with a kiss
Then take me inside for toast and beans,
My nose behind her knees.

If this post worked for you, perhaps you might like these too:

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Tagged as: baby, poetry