Piercing emerald defiant eyes, you stare me down. Your cheeks flush a strawberry jam-like hue, you stare me down. Queen of your kingdom, Ruler of the land, you stare me down. Commander, head honcho, key player, sovereign- you stand. There you are. Your clumsy legs standing your ground like pillars of the earth. Your lemon colored ringlets brush against that single freckle on your right cheek. By no means will you let me know that you are ill-equipped for battle. For you are new to the game. But what you lack in experience you make up in morale.

 

Smirking might give myself away. For, dear darling, I have endured this game for a lifetime. I know the rules well. But I am also a smart woman. A woman who respects my welfare.

 

So this battle, I choose to sit out.

 

I watch your body twist and contort as you push the boundaries. Your words fall into some staccato, unconventional possessed chant. You moan and growl as if your displeasure on my viewpoint causes great harm to your slender, flimsy body.

 

I watch from the sidelines. Mostly amused but at times breathless seeing you bounce and break. We bare our children with the desire to the be their soft place to fall. To envelop them in love, and hope that our own brittle, earthly bodies can protect them from great harm.

 

But I must now sit, and I must now wait. I must get out of your way. For it is your turn now my child, and as unfamiliar and confusing as it is for me, I must let your roar be the loudest sound in the room.

 

And when the time comes, because the time will come, when your feel like you are losing your balance and the world seems upside down. When bravado morphs into doubt and your roar sounds more like a grumble. I will be here, wanting you, loving you, on the sideline’s waiting.