To my Sons

I want to draw you close to me, but I mustn't...   instead, I have to push you away;     sometimes, though, I can still sneak a hug. I want to give you boundaries   only slightly larger than the back yard...     but, I must allow you the world. I see these man-sized boys playing   and I want to protect you from them...     and then I realize you ARE one of them. I want you to need me again to patch up your hurts and I wonder...   "Does Modern Science have anything that compares     with the miraculous powers possessed by a band-aid and a mommie's kiss?" I want you to ask me to tell you a story, and to listen to your wild tales,   and to join you in your growing-up world...     but you won't. You're all grown-up now -- with grown-up plans --   and grown-up ideas --     ...and grown-up desires. You'll come to me soon   with a grown-up girl...     and hopes for the future. And after a time, I'll hold a small child in my arms,   and look in your eyes again, and I'll hold him tight,     and I'll listen to his stories, and I'll sneak a kiss,       and I'll let him grow...                     ...and I'll remember.                                     mThis was written after I'd gone to watch my boys participate in the summer league basketball games. The "big" boys were playing and I wasn't paying attention until the lady I was talking with noted that my son had just scored a basket. What a revelation for me! ...to realize that my sons WERE the big guys! Written October 30th, 2001 © on Oct 30 2001 02:06 PM PST   18 • 0 • 10