A walk to the mailbox

I had forgotten

how good it felt to walk

outside, breathing in the November sun.

I had forgotten

the sound of contentment

until it reached my ears

and delved into my heart

with laughter

as two teenage boys raced backward

down the driveway slope,

their sisters doing the same

at a slower pace.

I had forgotten

how happy I am to trade

the stale space in front of the computer,

the research and hard decisions tensing my shoulders

for the space between you and me that lets me breathe.

.

We used to make this walk together often

when you were all little and held my hands and skirts,

little chicks huddled around mother hen.

I had forgotten.

But I remembered when I saw how far ahead of me you run now.

.

.

**** A few days later, I revised this poem and posted the revision on this link, Even Mama Needs to Revise.

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