By the time baby three and I delivered him to his hospital room, us embracing him goodbye, his eyes tear filled,
we’d driven from Bordeaux to Göttingen, overnighted in Basel,
spent three days visiting doctors, pediatricians, our GP,
filled on duck crispy,
cabbage red, sweet,
Knödel, gravy coated, heavy
with baby three’s Opa and Oma.
Filled the car with
Cosmetics,
creams.
Haribo for him.
Liquorice too.
Salamis,
hams,
German bread with thick dark crust.
Boxes of my good Tempo tissues,
for me,
for him,
for us.
By the time I messaged while charging,
he was still asleep.
By the time he responded,
I had sent him screenshots of emails to read,
to say what he wanted,
dressed baby three as Wednesday,
taken her to Halloween at friends.
By the time I cuddled,
held baby three in bed,
he’d answered the email that mattered.
By the time baby two’s arms around me pulled me in at the arrival hall at Bordeaux,
she had spent two weeks with her godparents and Lily in Singapore,
standing tall, straight, beaming, alive,
hauling bags of treats, Asian, spicy, hot.
By the time his women called to say we missed him,
the autumn break was over.
By the time I had shut my eyes holding baby three,
it was time to get up,
make my own coffee,
cut three different kinds of apples,
pack lunch,
distribute water bottles, pink, purple, black,
bundle my cackle of girls in the car,
deliver them to school.
By the time it was time to collect my cackle from school,
I had crawled back into bed,
I came
I slept
I sent him 🌊😘
sent him a list,
like a good secretary,
like a good wife.
Like Lai Yin.
