Smaller Portions
By Jacqueline Jules

On winter afternoons,
back when you skipped
through the kitchen
on shoes smaller than my hand,
we sipped cocoa with cookies
chatting about our days
filled with a black kitty cat,
CandyLand, Legos, laundry,
and morning trips to the grocery store.
My waist was small enough for
your tender arms to circle,
and like you, I reached
for as many sweet cookies
as my tummy could hold.
I counted little in those
young mother days--
not calories,
not minutes with you.
But the years reversed it all
as we both outgrew our clothes.
Now time together
is carefully prepared
into weekend portions,
spaced months apart.
And instead of reaching for
all the cocoa and cookies I want,
I must learn to be satisfied with less.