April 21, 2022 - 2 min read
April 21, 2022


“It’s all a little foggy, now.

The night light in the hallway guides me to the kitchen

where the clock on the stove, usually lonely at this time,

no longer waits for us ‘til sunrise.

And I’m learning, in the depths of night, the creaking of the stairs,

your tiny voice filling this old house—

This time is sacred.

When I see this time on the clock in a few years, you’ll be about five hours from getting on the bus.

And I’ll think about your warmth in my tired, aching arms.

I’ll think about the running water, how I begged it to warm more quickly to warm your bottle, so we can get back to warm sheets. Just for a couple more hours.

The thing is, you won’t always be this little.

In fact, I’ll be pulling these clothes from your dresser

In just a few weeks, exchanging them for ones which fit your growing body.

You’ll learn about this world,

All it is, all it holds.

You’ll grow into clothes and out of shoes,

You’ll walk & giggle & skin your tiny knees.

You’ll smile at the little things, and you’ll learn they’ll be just as important

now as they are when you grow older.

Don’t forget that, ok? The little things

are very big.

Life will change, my love.

But as long as we can, we will be here

to protect you & root for you. To love you with every single beat of our expanding hearts.

You won’t always be awake at 2:37 AM. Maybe you’ll be at your first sleepover,

Maybe you’ll be spending your first night in your new bed.

Perhaps you’ll be just down the hall, sleeping without a memory

Of our nights here in the kitchen.

And one day, I’ll pack your lunch or

Watch you walk up the stairs of the school bus,

watch the dogs, older too, chase you in the yard as the sun goes to sleep.

I’ll watch your legs grow longer and your smile grow larger,

Your hands explore the beauty of everything this world can be.

And I know deeply, that as I see your beauty unfold in the day,

I’ll think of tonight. Our time standing over the sink as your bottle warms

And the refrigerator hums, and the world around us sleeps,

I’ll think of this sacred time,

Just you and I.


In the light of the clock on the stove.”


Written by

Image of Molly Savitzky

Molly Savitzky


Molly Savitzky is a poet, deep feeler and writer who lives with her family in Newport, Rhode Island. She has a passion for threading words together for love, loss, soulmates and inner strength. She runs a small Etsy shop called The Birch & The Bowery selling prints of her poetry. Molly enjoys spending time with her two dogs, husband, and daughter, hiking, exploring the northeast, and spending early morning hours writing in her journal or reading novels.


1 Comment

  1. Michael Huber

    This was so beautifully written with such touching imagery. Thank you Molly!

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