And after the boy
hugs his sister
and tells her
she did a great job,
after he wipes
her tears and holds
her and wraps her
in his awkward arms,
after she leans
into him, their
sapling trunks
sloping toward
each other,
I want to tell him
how proud I am
of the ways
he is growing,
want to affirm
how much depends
on love, want
to say I see his tenderness,
but the soil beneath
them is unstable,
precious, and my voice
is full of heavy clouds,
so I wait until
they sway apart,
then I walk closer
and manage to say
through invisible rain,
It’s time.
Let’s go home.
Warm, wise, and wonderful. Just what I needed on this cold winter day.
Thank you, Joan … it was so heartwarming, that moment. I’ve been waiting 14 years for that … xo