morning love
I wait. fighting the scuttling tide of busy parents in suits and heels, already late for work. I wait, standing on my tip toes and straining my eyes to see my son. Louise is playing with dolls, a little boy is clinging desperately to his mother's arm. I wait because I made a promise. I promised I'd be there when he's finished drawing and that I'd wave at him, every morning.
the crowd is thinning, and I can hear the distant traffic rumble down the street. I watch. through the wide glass window, my child's head crowned with a halo of innocence.
"I think he forgot" Louise's father says to me. Louise didn't forget, and she's blowing kisses to the man whose life now revolves around her hopes and dreams. "I think you can go."
yes, I could. but I know my son. and I know that he never forgets. I wait. again. then there he is. his face glowing with contentment, his confidence restored and pouring out love and a kind of stately relief into my life. knowing that I didn't fail him. and that no matter what, we will always have this.
he waves at me. and I wave back.
Sep 28, 2006
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