The last little piggie may have cried, “wee-wee” all the way home, but on our way home from Rincón, Puerto Rico my boys and I just cried. After an amazing week of surf, sand, sun, snorkel, and scuba, the last thing we wanted was to come back to the bare winter of Maine. There are no palm trees in Maine. More important, in Maine, we don’t have the attentive care of my parents who lavished us with food and fun.
Today, a slide show and two intimate-moment-Mama poems.
Our Son
by Anna J. Boll
gentle eyes,
easy smile,
gorilla arms,
fuzz on upper lip
in him
i see you,
frozen in photos,
boy to man
he catches me
staring,
shakes his head,
disowns
a crazy mother,
full of pride
Sunrise
by Anna J. Boll
House lights twinkle
on dark island hills.
Wind,
like maracas,
shakes palm fronds,
and chills the air
Long ago,
I wrapped two hands
around my big belly.
Now,
I wrap a blanket
around us both.
Coqui peep,
roosters crow,
dogs bark,
we wait.
We expect
purple,
fuschia,
and orange
to tint the clouds.
But the light
creeps.
The sky
blues.
No show stopping
performance.
Just you,
and me,
and a moment
together.
Creative Chaos 
Love it! The slide show is awesome. Isaac looks so tall and lean. Your poem made me teary, he will be all grown up…. Did you and Ethan watch the sunrise? So cool. Love you all tons!