A Little Fall. A Mother's Sadness

I wasn't there today when he fell. It wasn't a big fall. Nothing was broken, just a scrape. I wasn't there to dry his tears or hold him close. He came to me after school and said "I fell off the monkey bars at lunch." I look at him with concern in my eyes. "Are you okay?" "I hit my head and banged my knee." "Did you cry?" "Just a little. I have a headache." I look him over to make sure there's no bump. He shows me his band-aid, the scrape hiding beneath. There was a time I was there for every bump, cut, bruise. Now there is someone else to make him feel better. To hold him as he tries so hard not to cry. He doesn't like it when others see him cry. Tears are reserved for only those he trusts. He grows each day and slowly pulls away. There will be a time when he'll have places to go and things to do. And the days of him grabbing my hand to cross the street or a kiss goodbye as I leave him at school will be a distant memory. But for now call me selfish when I want to be there to make it all better.