return

he gathers piles of books
from all corners of the house,
carefully slipping them into 
a gray back pack.
we pull up to the Library
and i park next to the 
magical chute for returned books 
to travel back to their home,
the van rattling and 
still running.
he gets out,
his long legs and arms
swinging in excitement
as he heaves the 
sack of books
off his back.
i admire my handsome boy,
he has grown far beyond the pace
i am ready for,
his maturity and kindness
astounding.
just last night he had taken the 
youngest boy,
his baby brother from me,
knowing his mother had just about lost her wits,
overwhelmed,
and here he was, 
calmly,
intuitively stepping in
as if to try and help lighten the load.
his brown hair, smartly combed,
makes his equally brown eyes look 
bigger and more expressive
than they are already are. 
i respect and adore this boy
far more than i can say.
he starts feeding the silver mouth
his books, 
one by one,
almost gently
as a mother feeds an infant with a spoon,
the mouth wide and toothless,
eager for delicious books.
he turned and waved to me,
ready for me to leave him to his
independence, 
to his freedom,
so he could spill into the 
Library halls
and get lost in a sea of books.
i couldn't help but recite motherly warnings,
don't talk to strangers,
find a well lit place,
be aware of your surroundings,
he knew it all
and would know exactly how to 
handle himself
i have no doubt,
but it still did not stop me from
speaking out of habit and maybe  
a little bit of
overprotective fear as well.
i watched him disappear through the revolving door, 
a lump forming in my throat. 
i am really trying to give my boy 
wings, 
to give him opportunities to 
prove himself 
capable and responsible, 
to not fret or hover over him, 
i get to steward, 
shepherd, and 
nurture this son of mine as he grows.
it's just a trip to the library,
you might say, 
lighten up. 
but to me, 
it's more than that. 
i send my boy out into the world 
and he will become a man 
before i can even blink.
he gives me a crooked smile,
gaps missing between a few of his teeth, 
a twinkle in his eye
as he looks back at me one 
last 
time.