Someday
by Caitlin Wynne Stern

My mother carried my name
years before
she carried me
Read it, and it took root
a bud
promising
to blossom someday
Then someday transformed to soon
months layering
growing
increasing
Surrounded by hills ribboned with brick sidewalks
almost-pizza topped by hardboiled eggs
new glass buildings mixing
with old stone edifices pocked with bullet holes
and the occasional Red Brigade bombing
my mother hunted
for a second name
Finally, she joined a single
syllable to
that first bud
so when I joined the world
bloomed from possible into messily real
with the standard ten fingers, ten toes
two eyes, and one nose
I had four names
instead of the usual three
A solid rectangle to build
a future on

AUTHOR’S PHOTO CAPTION: My introduction to books started young, with my mom taking me to the base library to meet some of her librarian friends. (Templehof…