Amber Pierson

is it selfish to mourn the loss of experiences?

because I do.
of course I mourn your son,
—————————my nephew.
in less than a month, he took our hearts
how small his body was
and how gaping the space he’s left behind.

I mourn the first time he came back to you, his mother,
and told you the new word that auntie taught him
your burbled laughter as he proudly cursed.

the moment you call me,
voice shaking over his first heartbreak.

I mourn the relationship he and my son would have had.
the bond, I know, I just know they would have had
and you and I reminiscing, once they became adults
about how they became the better versions of us.

I also mourn how you and I could have grown together
from being almost estranged
to sisters again,
to sisters who are mothers, growing with our sons.

I mourn helping you change diapers
and laughing about the smell as I gag with each wipe.

I mourn us watching our children at the park
as my son pushes yours in a swing
iced coffees and lunchables packed
in my purple backpack.
our chiming laughter as we chase our children
our shoes kicking up a spray of woodchips
their fathers shaking their heads at our childlike love.

I mourn girl days, where we go get something to eat
sitting in a quiet booth while the children torment their fathers.
I know the conversation would be all about them
our free moment turned into missing them
rushing home

I mourn it all.