Following My Son

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He pedals on ahead,

turning a corner

as I crawl slowly behind

in the car.

Headlights cut the night,

showing him the way.

Hawaiian music drifts

from the radio,

something about rainbows

and a wonderful world.

 

It’s tricky,

keeping the right distance,

and as we near our house

I realize this perfect

little arrangement must end.

 

But

what if he blew past

our driveway,

and pedaled into his future,

with me guiding him along

from behind?

 

Could a father

follow his son

like this

forever?

 

I can see him,

embarrassed again,

navigating the maze

of middle school,

trying hard to ignore

the sound

of my side view mirrors

scraping against lockers

behind him.

 

And I can see him

holding an unopened beer

at a party

with me parallel-parked

near the fridge.

My hazards are flashing,

signaling the dangers to come,

even as they match the beat

of the music I don’t understand.

 

And I can see him

walking into an interview

as I idle next to the elevators,

listening to the receptionist cough

as carbon monoxide fumes

fill the lobby

and distract the other candidates

from their last minute preparations.

 

And I can see him

drying off his son at a baptismal font,

the congregation politely applauding

as a car horn honks wildly

from the reserved parking area

just behind the pews.

 

But I see him

slow down instead

and coast purposefully

into our driveway.

Home.

 

I signal the right turn,

humming along

with that ukulele,

watching

end

credits

roll

up

across

the

windshield

as our trip nears its end.

 

I’m following my son.

For now, anyway.

 

As I put the car in park

and turn the key,

darkness fills in,

but everything’s clear –

 

he’ll use his own light

to find his way,

to search somewhere

over those rainbows,

and to come to know

this wonderful world

on his own.

 

 

This poem was inspired from a night I followed my eight year-old son Danny home on his bike from a friend’s house in 2005.

I had written in my writer’s notebook that night a seed for developing later: a cool life moment: Danny in the headlights of our Dodge Caravan, riding his bike home in front of me. Slowly following him so he’d be safe. Cool music on the radio. It’s got that ukulele and humming in it and it’s from a TV ad. It was like a scene out of a movie.

 A year and a half later, I started the first draft of a poem at a Capital District Writing Project writing retreat. I’ve been revising it every so often for ten years.

“A poem is never finished, only abandoned.” – Paul Valery

This final draft was revised and edited again for the Slice of Life challenge, March 2016. Today is Dan’s 20th birthday, 3/23/16, and I have officially abandoned this poem.

Happy birthday, Dan! Keep searching somewhere over those rainbows…your light is already shining bright.          Love, Dad