I picked out a cozy tie-dye sundress,
anticipating a fun summer day.

I got to the shower
and shaved my legs,
praying my toddler doesn’t stuff my dress
in the toilet
or into the shower with me.

She shouts with glee
in a gibberish only I translate.

It’s midday.
I ask the baby,
Do you want to go outside to play?

We trudge to the garden,
awaiting fresh vegetables and herbs.

With a baby on my hip,
I dip and pick
a bud of lavender.

In that moment,
I realize
I’ve never had a home
where I could plant flowers
directly into the dirt.

I hold the bud to my nose,
and the scent makes my heart hurt.

I gently pull the babe in for a squeeze
and gift her the lavender
that spoke to me.