Fanning the fire midweek, we are tossing you a spontaneous quote, question, or conundrum related to Monday’s post. We invite you to riff on this prompt or share a story—heartbreaking or hilarious—to spark further conversation about the path of motherhood.

Sometimes the way I listen is to write down what moves me about my children: the  amazing things they say, the magic of the classic milestone moments, the things I struggle with, what stirs up my shadow self.

I love writing about Oriah every month in Nikki McClure’s The First 1000 Days, and I just got her Remember journal  to start writing about Jordan in again. I want to write him a letter every season about our time together. But for those short little day-to-day nuggets, I love my casual, fun, polka dot notebooks. They take the pressure off writing for posterity and remind me of how simple it is to put pen to paper.

Tonight, to find some gem apropos listening, i searched online for Anna Swir, a Polish poet who wrote the collection of poems entitled Talking to My Body. This poem of hers makes me think about the kind of listening that goes straight to the heart and bypasses all the other senses.

To that which is most important

Were I able to shut
My eyes, ears, legs, hands
And walk into myself
For a thousand years,
Perhaps I would reach
—I do not know its name—
what matters most.

Back to me: My son Jordan turned five today.

What matters most:
The innocence of the nape of his neck, how it meets his slender shoulders, how it is already part of the man he has yet to be.

His gorgeous, oceanic eyes.

His squealing delight in learning to ride a bike.

The way he talks to Oriah, the intimacy of brother to sister, how well they know each other.

The feel of his sturdy hand in my own.

The singsong of his voice as he reads

What matters most to you about your children? Name one thing…