Off they go gathering days
in their pockets like so many found items,
dandelion wands and stones that make magic,
fallen leaves from trees
and shells that could be
from another world all together.
But now it's days
that blend into each other like magic
that can't be undone
and as you kiss your son
goodbye one morning you find
he is almost as tall as you, and your daughter
has begun to borrow your clothes,
and the youngest (who has always asked
so many questions) now asks ones
to which you have no answer.
As they head out the door for another day
you want to tell them everything they will
ever need to know (if only you knew it),
but you do not so instead you kiss them back
and for the one “not into” affection, you simply say
“I love you” as you watch them head out
to gather another day, hoping they will tuck
it carefully into their pockets, hold it
as tightly as you would hold them, and for
a little too long, never quite ready to let go.
I wrote the above poem several years ago, when all three of my children were still attending the same school, all still living at home.
It’s been an enjoyable summer having them all together again, knowing that again soon, classes will begin …
… my oldest will be heading back to a college 2,200 miles away …
… the tall middle child will be home a little longer (yay!) helping my husband at his workplace and gearing up for the next life stage …
…. my youngest will be starting 10th grade …
And off they will be once more, gathering days.
Bonita, this poem struck a sweet chord.
Beautiful