Watching and Waiting

I spend so much time staring at their backs, small backs with sloping shoulders that will transform one of these days. My sons' shoulders will broaden. My daughters' waists will narrow.

I spend so much time watching them lead the way as I trail behind. They crash into waves or wade into still water. They take off on their bikes or tumble down the neighborhood hills.  They are always leaving.

Sometimes, they turn around to see if I'm watching, following. Our eyes meet. Sometimes they are grateful to know I am there. Sometimes, they wish for me to turn around, to leave them to their adventures.

I think of all the times to come. I will watch their backs peeking from behind the driver's seat . I will watch their backs fade into anonymity at crowded airports. I will watch as they walk down the isle.


My back, however, will always remain a mystery to them. I will always be somewhere behind, waiting for their returns, which will one day turn to visits, waiting for our eyes to meet once again.

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