Thursday, January 23, 2014


As I shut the back sliding glass door behind my 13-year-old boy this morning, there was a fresh two inches of powder on the ground.  He quietly made his way to the bus as I headed toward the front to shovel our driveway.  When I came back I glanced out the rear window and saw the trail he left behind.  It felt rather symbolic of the last few months and elicited the following thoughts:


The babes I once held close
To whisper away the cries
To rock to sleep
To hold
Just because I wanted to.
I was their everything.

They learned to walk.
My hands outstretched
To catch (just in case)
To steady
To encourage
To engulf in a hug when they made it.
Aside from fruit snacks
I was their everything.

Their feet grew.
Their world got bigger.
Their strides grew longer.
Now they walk
They run
They jump
They do everything.

But the trail has shifted.
The footprints face away
Instead of toward me.
Positive they know what to do
Positive they know the way
But I wonder.
Are they ready?
Have I taught them everything?

It is what I want for them.
It is how it is supposed to be.
This hollow breath in my throat
It has nowhere to go,
No way to feel right.
Have I done my job?
Is this all there is?
Is this everything?

Dear God,
I hope you know what you’re doing.
Lead them
Guide them
Walk beside them
Please make sure my babies make it.
They have to.

They are
After all
My Everything.

Drew's footprints left in the snow this morning