A mother's robe

I bought it when JR was four months old. I was baffled by it, overwhelmed, tested. I tried it; it challenged me. I frantically sought help, and received it. Later, I mastered it, and started wearing it ~ constantly, fondly. It became me. Over and around, and above and through. Tie at the front, tie at the side, tie to my life.

I treated it with care and respect. I reached for it all the time. On me is where it belonged. Everyday, like my hair, it accompanied me on trips. Where ever I went, it was there. It witnessed milestones, made memories, became immortalized. It took in the scenery, watched the days go by, listened to conversations. It went on airplanes, and in cars. It got packed in a suitcase, and fell on the ground. It got tasted, cuddled, soiled. It became part of the family. It was family.

For months it was a constant in the household. The garment above all garments. Then, one day it stopped. JR grew. It was the end.

I washed it, dried it, folded it and "bagged" it. I needed to protect it. I handled it with care. It was my history, my heritage, my future. It got "boxed" up. It was far, but safe.

Then, one day it began again. Yousef was born, and the story re-commenced where it was left last. Out of the box, out of the bag, but not out of practice. Again it became my second skin, the natural extension of my being. One again, I could not live without it, nor would I try. I reach for it before I dash out of the house. I reach for it when I am in the house. I feel "naked" without it. It is there where I cannot miss it - and yet sometimes I do.

Once again it is loved, needed. It is Joseph's favorite setting. It holds him close to Mama, and takes him places. It brings him home.

And after a long day, it rests. Perched high and away from curious hands, it goes to "sleep." Up the next day for another adventure.

I cannot imagine my world without many things, but without my wrap, it would be even more unimaginable.