Young, you watch the wheels, mama's car reflects the sky.
Turning, shifts the scene across the glass as she drives by.
Good-bye for now, good-bye until the dusk begins to crack.
Hello is payment for the night to ransom her hugs back.
Young, the wheels are slowly turning on a new red trike.
Older now, two wheels race beneath a brand new bike.
Two and three wheels' independence foreshadow what's in store.
The freedom found in two wheels, three, compared to that in four.
Drive away, the day was always waiting in my heart.
You drive away, this is the task I took on from the start.
That once you knew enough to really take care of it all,
To seek the challenge of the world, to fly, and hurt, to fall.
To measure all the joy and pain, the cost from what was free,
I hold you close, but teach you how
to drive away from me.
Here's one more paradox about parenthood.
Our whole goal as parents is to make sure that, one day, these little people _don't need us. It's bittersweet, because your pride in their independence contrasts with the love and holding close that helped them learn confidence, compassion, and strength. I can barely read this without weeping. **** changes you, man. At the core.
