Poem for Robby. And Another for the Little One

Portrait of Robby at Two

When Robby wakes up after his nap,

(And this boy is one good napper),

He lies in bed awhile and talks.

Sometimes he practices sounds or words.

One day I heard him say the word “yes”

At least ten times. “Yes!” “Yes!” and “Yes!”

If I come visit him and walk into the house with my shoes on,

Robby points to my shoes, then pulls them off,

Carries them to the door, sets them in perfect order—

He is like me, his Grandfather,

He likes order—and at the same time,

Loves chaos.

Robby loves to play in his basement,

A paradise for toddlers. He tells his Grandmother,

“Nana, run! Run!”

Then runs in a circle ten times,

Wearing out poor Nana.

When visiting, I ask Robby to show me the fish.

He takes me to the aquarium and shows me

The big ones, the little ones, the blue and the pink.

He loves the fish—wants me to feed them.

Then he takes me by the hand to the piano.

He actually puts my fingers on the keys

And says, “Play, Brrr, play!”

“Play ‘Jingle Bells’!”

He calls me “Brr” like his big brother Colin—

“Brrr”—the bearded grandfather,

A name I love.

This little guy, now two-years-old,

So happy, so much fun,

Such a great teacher to his parents,

Grandparents, and brother.

Bob (“Brrr”) Coughlin / January 2016

Little One,

Just ten weeks knit together in your Mother’s womb,

We love you already,

Pray for you on the perilous journey to birth.

We know you are both strong . . .

And fragile

And we ask the angels to guide you

The thirty weeks more until your birth—

Want you to know what a loving family

You are part of us

Can’t wait for you to know your Mom and Dad,

Your crazy bothers,

Your grandparents,

Aunts, uncles, cousins

And the friends who root for you now,

Who will be your teachers

And playmates.

Little One,

We are so full of gratitude

and hope.

 Bob Coughlin / January 6, 2016