(for John)
The ‘if’ sets up the futile ground of possibility while the ‘only’ that’s implied
underlines the ruefulness of being human, of being a mother, of having seen
too much of what’s disguised as what is wanted. Sometimes it is the dog
that is missing, or the dog could save the day, or the dog chases after
the rabbit yipping its high-pitched joy only to return winded with a slobbery
grin. The only answer to “if only.”
When the idiom changes to if…son…motorcycle and the only becomes
if only he had not inherited my need for speed, my need to risk everything
to ride the rims of my desire to the edge of what I thought I wanted,
and the only is also my only child then I must confront my thoughts
of maim and mayhem, or worse a world without him. I plead, I bargain
then learn to say and mean it:
I trust whatever is guiding you to this road on this iconic steed, that you are
aware of your invisibility, vulnerability, the unforgiving nature of concrete
and loose gravel, that you have learned to care for the beast that will carry
you and keep it well maintained. I give you my confidence in your ability
to make good decisions and my belief that we all choose our paths
for the reason known and the reason unknown.
Yes, yes, my confidence is in your good judgment, your healthy appreciation
of your life. I will tell you that I will not worry, and I will believe it is possible
within me. If worry were productive, the world would be a different place.
The lessons to come are your own, and I hope that any landings you have
are soft ones. Remember what Grandma Martin said, “Don’t go any faster
than your angels can fly.”
Yes, yes, I will buy you the leather jacket. The black one silver-studded
to catch the light.