April 19, 2007
On the fifth anniversary of your adoption,
we left our jobs early to scoop you up,
and we all three walked to the museum
where we paid our respects
to a mummy and the top figure of a totem pole
that had once stood sixty feet high.
On the way to our next adventure,
the day seemed to be warming up
(finally, after all that rain),
and a patch on the sidewalk
called out a challenge you couldn't ignore.
"Watch me!" you called, as if either of us
has done anything but since we became a family.
One of us stood to mark the spot where the leap
should start, while the other tried to stay
out in front, ready to cheer, or catch,
or possibly pick up the pieces.
Behind you, a young man heard your joyous yell,
recalled his own sidewalk challenges,
and turned around just in time to see you take flight.
The trees murmured their approval
as you came back to earth
and reached up
with both arms
to take our hands again.