the quiet

The life I lead is carefully constructed. Haphazard at times, but purposeful.

The bus rolls up, and they disappear; their faces framed by sliding windows. My simple prayer: Let them soar. Let them be kind and generous. Fierce, if need be, and open. Let them soak it all up and return to me, for the better.

For snacks and kisses and quiet talks when the lights go out.