They walk ahead.
Sometimes running, skipping…
Every so often they stop to look back at me.
I always want to catch right up to them, grab each of their little hands in mine (impossible…I only have two), but even so, when I try…
They find a way to wriggle free and run on past.
I wonder, will I always feel this way?
As they grow and move and change, will I constantly be trying to match their pace?
Even though they are with me almost every moment of every day now, I feel as if the rope tied to them, from my being to theirs, is already thinning.
Slowly the hairs split, one by one.
One day it will completely break free…
and I’ll be here, watching them run into the distance.
Far ahead of me.
Out of sight.
Over the horizon.
I won’t be able to call after them anymore and insist that they come back, even though I will want to.
I’ll stand there, the split ropes carefully gathered in my hands…
The very ones that used to tether them gently, yet securely to myself for all of those years.
Maybe there will be times I manage to catch back up to them. (Gosh, I hope)
Standing right next to them again,
I’ll take one of their hands in my own…
And drape the worn rope, still very much so attached to me, gently around their shoulders.
I’ll rest there, for just a moment.
Remembering the days I could always see them.
Right in front of me.
Running, running just ahead.