Steps

Her baby wisps sprayed down, 

I rounded cheeks pink, directed lashes to open and blink against the wand.

Pinkie finger dotting and smoothing red against small lips left open,

she smiled in readiness, anticipation.

There was no fear in her now.

Then she kissed me goodbye,

and joined her friends in the line.

Only I saw the secret pauses, 

silent glances through the crowd,

for the reminder, the reassurance, the courage,

a shy, sweet smile meant for just me.

I waited for her amongst other chatting moms

each of us seemingly busy in light-hearted small-talk,

but mostly just wondering about our babies 

off scampering across a slick stage.

We stepped ourselves into the back of the dark 

to beam in the black

at little ones twirling, bashful, giggling,

so practiced and proud

and shining.

And each of three times as she returned from the stage

to hide until her next two minute simple routine,

she'd round the corner

innocent eyes seeking

from across the room

dancing through clamor and noise.

I'd raise my arm so she could find me quicker,

my heart holding its breath for her to know 

I was there.

She'd come running to me

leaving the rest

arms thrown wide in abandon

into me.

I did it.

So when she's grown and moved on,

this all only barely a blur of her vaguest of memories,

so small in the mighty milestones of life,

my momma heart will have this meticulously filed away- 

because someday, she'll step away 

without glances behind

and I'll be left simply 

to admire.