We're both tired
at the end of a long day
But you are desperate to visit
the neighbourhood cafe,
So in we go
and sit at a little table
by the window
We recap the rules -
'No shouting or screaming or running about',
You're so full of the energy that arrives
When you're burnt out,
You swing your umbrella round
fishing for table legs, calling the
curled end your 'hook'
'not in there' I growl, my eyes scanning
for the judgmental looks,
You eat a bite of cake
and get up to dance around,
'the cake made me dance' you say
when I ask you to sit down
You use your straw
to blow your napkin to the floor
Food barely touched, I hurry to pay
thinking we'd better be on our way
out the door, my shoulders hunched,
feeling the burden of the coming judgments
Two women in the corner,
both with small babies,
'I've got an older one too'
One of them looks up and says,
'Yours has done so well today -
I wish mine would sit
like that in a cafe',
and I'm overwhelmed by her kindness,
her tone conveys what she meant -
that we're both doing fine,
that I can stop and breath
that you're just being three
and that you're lovely,
that you're okay being you
and I'm ok being me
We walk hand in hand to the park
and you play contentedly
until it gets dark
and we head home for tea -
my tired heart
grateful for the gift
of solidarity.