Literary Mama writing about the many faces of motherhood


Hidden at the window,
we spy on our daughter.
At the end of the driveway,
she sways from toe to heel,
tipping sunglasses down her nose
as a car whizzes past.
There is no sun except her,
and she shines awkwardly, tag still
on her sunglasses, specks of supper
clinging to her cheek.

When she sees us, her face
shows she is our child but someone else, too.
We hear a door shutting, and we know
we must wait for her steps,
listen for the slap of her new shoes.

Kimberly Long Cockroft’s fiction, nonfiction, and poetry¬†have appeared in print¬†and online in journals and magazines, including Southwest Review and Ladybug Magazine. A former teacher and newspaper columnist, Kimberly writes and lives with her husband (a poet), three daughters, and a wee dog by the shores of Washington’s lovely Puget Sound. Find her daily at

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Wow, this is beautiful! And I'm right there with you, on the opposite coast (Williamsburg, Va.) but witnessing and living through this strange transition, us with sons instead of daughters....such a learning curve, full of joys and also great challenges--like all of parenting, I guess! Great job......
This poem! I pictured my own daughter in your words. It's such a bittersweet feeling, witnessing the push and pull as they want to grow up, yet are still so unsure of the world. I loved this.
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