The first time away from him.
A playgroup,
a 'dump and run'.
It was designed as a couple of hours rest,
time away from him,
me time,
'do something you like' time.
In reality it was time spent feeling lost,
pushing an empty buggy 'round the streets,
time spent knowing there was something missing.
Constantly checking my watch,
with a crumbling fragility growing inside me...
"1 hour to pick - up time; 30 minutes... 15.
worrying about getting back to the community centre,
too late, too early.
So here we are,
20 years later and he's off to South America.
Chile via Madrid,
for 2 months,
and here comes thar crumbling fragility,
and I am back on those streets once more,
pushing the empty buggy,
feeling fragile and out of control,
knowing I must let him go,
but wanting to care for him,
put an arm 'round him and tell him that everything's gonna be alright!
