The Walk

Zip up our jackets.
Put on our hats.
Tie our shoes.
Settle the baby across my center.
Offer the child my hand.
We step on the path.
We move at the pace of the child.
Slow, plodding.
She sees something.
She drops my hand, runs off.
Wait!
She runs back witha treasure I should see.
I look.
A feather, a flower, a stick.
She takes back my hand and we continue on.
The baby shifts, fusses, wakes.
I'm here. You're safe.
The sun shines.
My shadow falls darkly on the path.
A solitary grown-up shadow.
My shadow children leave no shadows on the path.
Their voices, my voice.
Their needs, my needs.
Their presence, thier energy
Is real.
It subjugates mine at times.
When they have a need that I try to ignore.
A tantrum.
A piercing cry.
Okay.
Stop.
Ask.
What do you need?
I need to be acknowledged.
I need to be held.
I need to be comforted.
I stop walking.
We sit on a fallen log.
We eat.
We rock.
I hold them.
Who is this strange traveling trio?