There were nine little
taking on the house;
like marauding pirates,
grabbing toy cooking tools
and shouting WEAPONS!
they lunged at each other
while moms and dads
corrected or redirected.
Some were quiet, most were not;
all were rushing, laughing, studying,
testing boundaries with preschool brains.
Naptime, and babies were gathered up;
bigger ones taken by the hand
and walked to waiting SUVs.
I saw one who had to be carried
to the car, kicking and screaming
like a stranger had snatched him.
With the last car full, I thought
it had been a great
but the car was taking
my grandson’s newest friend–
it broke his fragile heart.
On an island of tender grass at the curb
he exploded into grief
that shook every window on the street.
Without shame, he unleashed a torrent of tears
and a deep soul, full of heartbreak
as he screamed after her– ELLLLLA!!
My daughter turned to me and said,
“If he was wearing his undershirt
I would have filmed it.”