The fierce warrior within, dormant, unnamed, was awakened

well before that first open-mouthed, toothless grin formed around

the spoonful of carrots when she saw me walk toward her…

Checking under the bed to make sure, again, there are no scary things;

tucked in with blessings and prayers for family, friends;

assurance the angels are keeping watch…

Kissing scrapes after tumbles to quickly transpired for me to divert…

Sharing in her joy with a new friendship secured, sharing her sadness as it fades…

Connecting in our laughter, the story unimportant;

the memory of the laughter remains and is revisited in our conversations…

Fierce and loving protector always, specifically born for her I think…

Ah, what we don’t know, until we do, given all the precautions, guidelines,

safety measures we are taught to teach —

the proper way to brush teeth, the look left-right-left move before crossing the street,

bundling up against the cold…

Is that fierce warrior Me, always desiring to protect and keep her safe,

free from harm to the best of my ability, has been schooled…

I am unable to protect her from herself…



One thought on “Schooled

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