Yardsport

Yardsport

-          For Jackson and my always supportive parents

The ride is not enough.                                                                                                

He must drive.                                                                                                                                  

Learn the front roads and back,

explore every nook and cranny,

every stick and stone,

every pebble and puppy,

 on this beautiful path.

It was not always paved I tell him, but his attention

is short and elsewhere. He does not care for

how things came to be, he just wants to be - on his way.

I want to see the train daddy – so we go.

The rails are sturdy.

Each tie weathered with

pride, grit, discipline, and the

sweat of daily sacrifice.

Finally, my parents can enjoy those days.

Night after night of tomato soup. Conversations

about how they will survive until next Friday.

After all, it has allowed them to lay a track so perfect,

it has brought their kids, and their kids kid’s,

back home to the station.

He sits on my lap, summertime blonde hair

shimmering bright as the sun rising in the East Sky.

We make our way back to the cabin.

He smiles, believing he is driving the Yardsport.

I smile, knowing he is driving so much more.