“Reach it to me” he says, when he can’t quite grasp what he wants. And so I reach.
“Push me higher!” he says, and I push, over and again.
“Hold you!” When he has had enough, can go no more and wants me to carry him. Or maybe he just needs to be held. So, I shoulder the load.
“Ride faster!” he squeals, barely able to breathe, with the rush of the wind in his face. I pedal faster.
I will admit, that there are times in my day that I feel used up. A barrage of “I need” and “I want”, the unending, vast and bottomless vessels of childhood, asking that I pour all, all of me out. I am drained.
Then, he hurts his head on the open kitchen drawer. Both of us, are surprised that he did not walk under it. When did he grow too tall for the walking under?
I think then, little one, that maybe it’s an even trade. You use my body for a little while, and you fill my heart for a lifetime.
I will be your arms for reaching, your feet for pedaling, your hands for pushing, the shoulders that bear your weight, because all too soon you will run this race on your own two feet.
And someday, perhaps, I will need your arms and legs the way you need mine now..
We’re quite a team.
That’s just what love does: