Thank you for always loving me.

Still, at seventeen, I act like a child.

Thinking I can swim without floaties

in a sea of confusion, with sharks that can smell

my faith from miles away.

Wanting to run away from home with my suitcase 

of two gold coins and a change of clothes,

but you know I can’t do this on my own.

And you place me in a season of in-betweenness.

Being a seed that’s fallen from its old maple.

Waiting...will I become a new tree?

Waiting… to be taken up to soar with the wind?

Waiting… to lay upon the grass and wait some more?

I feel as though I constantly return to a crosswalk.

When will the red hand disappear so I can just go?

And you say soon.

I can walk across the road on my own you know…

And you say against the traffic? Against the crowd?

You say I know you could try but just wait for me.

You say let me be your eyes, isn’t that better than just your cane?

So, I’ll try to wait… until I can’t, 

and I will say I don’t need the training wheels 

and you’ll let me go,

and as I pedal faster and faster thinking I’ve got it

I will probably tip over and crash

my tears in anger, sadness, disbelief

but I’ll look up and see you.

There to pick me back up,

clean my cuts and bruises, 

help me learn from my mistakes,

and just be there. 

Being there.

For that, I am so thankful.

Thank you for always loving me.