A Parent’s Dream

She stood in the

green field of

grass and flowers,

her black curls

hanging

like spun licorace

about her bare and bronzed shoulders.

Her son, head barely reaching her waist.

held her hand,

and he stared as she pointed.

Among the blue sky and tree tops

in the distance,

always-

in the distance,

Among the the blooms and birds

far away,

always-

far away,

she gestured and said,

“Look at what peace exists.”

“See what life can hold for you,

for your soul.”

He gazed from her to the view

and from the view to her.

“But how?”

She knelt and looked into brown irises.

She placed his small, dark hand onto her chest

and said,

“Love will get you there. Yours, your father’s, and mine.

But all in all, it’s up to you more than us.

You must dream large dreams, and not for us, but for yourself.”

He looked at the scene again,

and a hummingbird stopped in front of him.

It hovered and buzzed back and forth, up and down.

“Will he help?” asked the boy.

“If you value him,” she said.

A butterfly, yellow and black and fluttering with life

lit on a purple flower.

“Will he help?”

“If you value him.”

“What about other people?”

“They can,” she said taking him into her arms,

“But …”

“What?”

“You must value yourself first. If you do that, if you love yourself,

if you know life can be everything I have shown you, and more,

they will help too.”

He smiled and said,

“I hope.”

“What?”

“That lots of children have a mom or dad like you.”

“Me too,”

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