I have no idea what I'm doing...


A few days ago,
I was walking behind a mother,
With two kids,
A boy and a girl.

In front of them,
Were her husband,
And what I assume,
His parents.

They were caught up,
In a lively conversation,
While she was watching the kids.

They were all dressed up,
Picture perfect,
Everything matching.

Maybe they went to dinner?
Or was it someone’s birthday?
I don’t know.

Her kids were playing around,
She was desperately trying to hold their hand,
And their behavior,
Under control.

I felt her fear,
Her stress,
Making me believe that it were indeed,
Her parents in law,
In front of her,
Had high expectations.

Her kids didn’t care,
They didn’t feel it,
And why should they?

The girl was stretching her legs apart,
As far as she could,
Daring her brother,
If he could do it too.

He immediately tried.

I felt the tension with the mother rising,
She was waiting to say something,
You know,
Like we mother’s do,
We don’t want to spoil their game,
But secretly we want them to stop,
So we wait a few seconds, minutes,
However long we can keep it in,
Before we tell them to stop.

And there it was:
“Just stop now, you’ll ruin your shoes”,
She said it calmly,
But I felt the agitation,
It was her best excuse,
The best thing,
To keep them under control.

And it made me wonder,
What do we ever really control?

My answer came immediately,
From the kids in front of me,
Who did it,
One more time,
Stretching their legs,
Filling the street with laughter,
Not a care in the world,
And certainly not about their shoes,
As it should be.


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