Wednesday Sneezes

Wednesday morning and Chelsea sneezes

As I drive her and her sister to school.

I risk a quick paternal glance at her

And say, “Bless you.” My memory

Blesses me back to 1989 when she

And Jamie were born and we took

Them home on a Wednesday morning,

Bundled in blankets so huge

That we could barely see their tufts

Of baby hair tucked above the swaddling.

They were immobile with sleep and our anxiety

To keep them safe. We had them propped

With towels rolled next to them in the car seats,

secured for their first car trip. Half way up I-5

On the way to Lynnwood we could not detect

Any signs of life, like breathing. We needed

To be reassured that  they were still with us.

I pulled the car to the shoulder and I checked

Chelsea’s breathing while Diane checked on Jamie.

I could not be sure I saw or heard her breath,

So faint against the noise of the cars and trucks.

I poked her tiny cheek to see if she reacted.

She yawned then. Chelsea  yawns now,

Fourteen years later and very much with us

Sneezing to reassure me that she is just fine.