The Handprints On The Front Door Are Missing

I found this post in my “drafts”… written October 2, 2015. For some reason, I never published this story. I think what happened, is that the minute I wrote this, the front door started to get dirty with fingerprints again, and the boys were back at it. Then Pokemon Go hit (which I loved because they were outside). But now, the stillness has settled in for good. The boys across the street rarely come to play and there are miniature grown-ups focused on school work here.

They’re more tired at night. The glass on the front door stays clean: there are fewer and fewer raps on the door from the little boys coming to play. Their noses are down, and they are buried in books.

They’re more tired at night. The glass on the front door stays clean: there are fewer and fewer raps on the door from the little boys coming to play. Their noses are down, and they are buried in books.

Has homework eaten their desire?

This is far more painful to watch than one leaving for college…

Their clothes are void of mud stains, and Rosie doesn’t get to help build snow forts…

They don’t annoy me with silly talk when I’m trying to clean up the dinner dishes.

Who has taken my children? Where are those wild little boys who run through the house– their energy, for so many years has been the background beat of thunder running imperceptibly¬†throughout the house, running like ribbons through the milestones of the older boy’s lives: First homecoming, first prom, first job… graduation…

But I always had these two left behind… so that when the world started to spin too fast — I still had these two; where time has stood still for so long. And now, they’re spinning away too…

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