Snuggled

I glide the bike to a slow stop on the sidewalk, ease my helmet off

and step into the shop.

It’s busy, being lunchtime and all.

The kitchen is alive. Meat stir frying, flames licking the ceiling

I order my usual.

Cho toi mot pho tai lan va tra

At this point, they know me here. It’s a weekly work day sneak away. I’ve got the timing down and it’s a 35 minute turnaround.

Clamour is easy, there’s a gentle comfort scattered among the conversations, dotted with smiles and knowing glances.

Steam is the constant

Rising from each bowl, and from every small glass topped with hot barley tea.

I pull my chair out to sit down and look behind me to see the bundle at the table behind.

Definitely no more than six months old

White stocking cap and onesie

Nestled into the arms of what must be grandma.

We make eye contact, and she nods in my direction with a gentle smile.

I have been there

I say to her with my eyes

And I miss those days

I say, without saying.

We don’t speak the same language

But we do share the same bond, that only exists when another tiny human melts

into your shoulders and your chest.