My Sean

My Soul

My Self

My images of Sean–

The last baby to leave my body.

Ever.

Blindfolded baby under the lights

Making me giggle as I worried.

Bipolar Baby – is that even possible?

Either screaming with real tears,

Or tumbling over with laughter.

Serious Sean.

Smiling Sean.

Sweet Sean.

Smart Sean.

Seeing Sean.

Bottle with a straw.

Mr. Rogers. Ties. Jackets.

Basketball. Computers. Games. Girls.

Creases between his brows

Born in his baby forehead.

His grandchildren will put their fingers insides those lines.

Sean follows his brothers

Yet is his own person

Practical. Longs to please.

Worried. Always worried.

Confident.

Or so it seems to those who don’t know his heart.

Intolerant.

Of enough things that it sometimes feels like

Too much trouble to just go through the motions of a day.

Successful. That’s his future.

He doesn’t see it now.

I know Sean as I know myself.

My Sean.

My Soul.

My Self.

May 2, 2003