Last week, my son
learned to swim.
The water was a distance
breached,
a milestone almost
as breath taking as
his first steps.
Unlike walking,
this time, he gasped and
cried and pushed himself
to reach an edge,
a hand,
something to hold on to.
I held him in my arms
as he shivered with his
own shock
and surprise
at his innate talent
for survival.
I wanted to coddle him,
keep him safe
from the elements,
tucked in my circle
of maternal indulgence.
But it is an indulgence.
I let him tug away
from me,
as far as my heart
can bear.
Children become men.
And while swimmers once
curled in the water of
the womb,
it is in the wide, wide sea
where they
thrive.
(Dec. 21, 2009)
Image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/brianauer/2599299352/
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