~

i remember the day
when first we met;
your face i can see, 
i'll not ever forget.
hearing your cry,
i sang your first song;
i was just learning then
how to hold on.

off to the playground, 
i think you were three;
while crossing the street,
you were clinging to me.
when pushing your swing,
i'd always say,
'i'm right behind you, son,
i'll keep you safe.'

for years we work hard
learning how to hold on,
and then in a moment,
childhood is gone;
no longer their fortress, 
our arms they outgrow;
we find we're not ready, 
when it's time to let go.

we took you to college, 
we set up your room.
had we prepared you?
had we too much assumed?
driving back down the freeway,
hope wrestled with fears;
our struggle to let go,
became a battle with tears.

now at your graveside,
i've come here to weep;
your guardian no longer,
now you're watching me.
though heaven now holds you,
and though hope i yet know,
it makes it no easier,
its still hard to let go.

for years we try hard,
learn just how to hold on,
and then in a moment
this life is gone.
no longer their fortress,
our arms they outgrow,
we don't get to choose when,
it is time to let go.

i still find this painful,
it's so hard to let go.
i will never be ready,
though yes it's time...
time to let go.

~

*post script.

an exchange today with a dear, young mother and family friend about her daughter, growing up far too fast, brought memories of our own child rearing, and of this write from several years ago and originally posted in 2013. its been dusted off, with a bit of a rewrite, but stands, both in sentiment and in structure, relatively unchanged.

these words left in comment to her, i dedicate to each of you young parents... especially you single mothers.  "such is the tension of parenting... hang on too closely and a child shows signs of coddling, let go too fast, too early and a child shows signs of parental absence or neglect. the fact that you are aware of the tension means you are far more likely to avoid either extreme; and don't even think about some utopian parenting idea... there is no perfect parent!!"

~

she is hot,
a day too hot,
far and away too hot!
summertime, august hot...
do you know the kind?
the sweet smell of street-asphalt melting,
underneath the simmering waves of heat rising;
the river-eddy, current’s slow dwindling,
tadpole pond, now empty, mud-cracking, hot;
tire swing, rubber-cracking, too hot to touch,
lazy-swaying, gently in the mid-day heat;
sweat, like honey-dripping, slow sliding
sticky-leaving, dribble’s-down-the-back, hot;
the hot, popping sounds of crackling
bonfire's roar on humid, moonlit night, hot;
the distant sound of cricket’s rising chorus
in the creeping darkness,, fading, sultry twilight,
as the tree frogs slowly drown them out;
now alone, in the moonlight, she,
barefoot climbs the still-warm rocks
high above the river bank,
peels off her sweat-drenched clothing,
and plunges to the pool beneath,
to let its cool, soothing water
wash the sweat from sunburned skin,
and ease the blistering heat of day away.

~

*post script.

no doubt, just a bit different for this writer.  

i watched my sweet wife work all day beside me in the hot summer heat today. don’t even ask where this one came from!