The time one of my babies fell off the changing table. The time I, crazed with sleeplessness, slapped one of my little ones on the top of their head in the middle of the night. The time I didn’t know what to do or say in response to one of my teenagers and I regret what I did and said. The time, the time, the time. They laugh when I apologize for these things and say they don’t even remember. But I do.
Quantum Falling, by Dick Westheimer
When I dropped the hammer
from the top rung—
twelve feet below,
on my ten year old’s head—
he looks up right before
the fall. His,
mine. I am no longer the dad
who knows all.
The boy’s now an NP and says
I did right—kept him
awake, from fading,
from falling away.
He still dreams
of the ladder, the wall,
the house,
the blooming black flower
he’d become
when the hammer hit,
recalls my face
blank, falling away
into the wide-open mouth
of the sky. I still see him
when I look in the mirror
at night—alive and dead—
knowing
the truth
about
me.
Click here for more information about Dick Westheimer. Today’s poem was published in the August 2025 edition of Rattle, from their Ekphrastic Challenge series.
alisonmcghee.com
My podcast: Words by Winter
Alison McGhee 
I don’t have kids, but I vividly remember the time we were all going to brunch, everyone laughing having fun. I was carrying my nephew, a toddler, when I tripped on the sidewalk, fell in slow motion and felt his head touch the cement. He was fine. Didn’t even cry. And my brother, who had been a big brave dad for two years now, laughed it off. I still remember it. Even told my nephew about it during the week we were all at his great destination wedding. He laughed. I apologized. Again.
Quantum Falling reminds me of this poem which takes my breath away every time.
FATHER’S SONG, by Gregory Orr
Yesterday, against admonishment,
my daughter balanced on the couch back,
fell and cut her mouth.
Because I saw it happen I knew
she was not hurt, and yet
a child’s blood’s so red
it stops a father’s heart.
My daughter cried her tears;
I held some ice
against her lip.
That was the end of it.
Round and round; bow and kiss
I try to teach her caution;
she tries to teach me risk.
https://poets.org/poem/fathers-song
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Oh Robin, of course you remember falling with your nephew in your arms. One of my friends once revealed that she was terrified to hold babies, to laughter from everyone in the room, but why WOULDN’T anyone be afraid to hold them? And, this poem by Orr is one of my favorites too. xo
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