I’ll miss our mornings together:
taking you to school
when you’d rather not go,
but conceding eventually –
no choice but to comply.
I’ll miss our time in the car:
morning prayers for protection and goodness,
followed by delightful stories
to take your mind off the worries to later visit.
I’ll miss walking with you from the car:
Bubbles and Bubba standing tall,
as the morning sun behind us lengthened our shadows in front of us.
Down the hill we’d go:
to Ducky, Piggies, and Owly –
not forgetting Mountain,
and my favourite-coloured school bus.
I’ll miss hopping down the stairs together,
hand in hand,
making fun out of the inevitable short trip
to the classroom
where children, teachers, and other daily routines lay.
I’ll miss joking around with your classmates:
awesome little people
who were your ‘colleagues’
in your childhood occupation.
I’ll miss giving you your three hugs,
along with the two bonus ones;
re-assurance for you before I left –
though they provided just as much comfort for me.
The daily routine
of asking what time Mommy was coming,
with the answer and follow-up questions always the same.
And then my final departure…
though I’d rather have stayed all morning with you.
I miss leaving work
in the middle of the day
to come fetch you.
Trying to sneak into the classroom without you seeing,
to give you a most pleasant surprise;
but failing most times,
when your classmates alerted you;
five and six year olds unable to keep the secret.
The heart-melting hug that would greet me,
before our walk back up to the car:
the porcupine bushes poking you,
as you defiantly walked through their spikes –
all the way back up to the top,
where the next game would be
my trying to find you,
as you’d insist on leaving through a separate gate.
And waiting outside the car for Mommy to come get you:
sometimes near those neighbouring dogs –
the grumpy old black one shouting us,
while his brown friend eagerly sought our attention.
And our pizza lunch appointments on the pavement;
or watching the butterflies flutter between flowers,
and other games you’d make up,
as we waited for your ride home.
when that blue car arrived,
having to leave you once more –
though you often didn’t want to go:
home for you,
and for me, off to the mosque, followed by hours of more work.
I’ll miss our time together:
these routines of daily comfort and joy;
memories to treasure forever,
of a time when the world was ‘normal’.
And as we venture forth into circumstances so different,
I thank the Almighty
for the fond memories we shared;
and I pray for even better routines,
closer and more joyful connections,
and a life filled
with peace, happiness, and tremendous progress,
in a new world,
a new future…
a new life.