National Don’t Take Your Child to Work Day

Standard

He yells a startling, raspy “hi”
into the mouthpiece.
A voice so deep
it seems improbable
that it originates from his 2-year-old throat.

Reluctant to relinquish the phone
on the desk in my windowless
work cubicle,
he’s coaxed away by monkeys,
lions, and elephants in a red striped box.

Trusting hand
wrapped in my right hand,
a diaper bag slung over my shoulder,
notepad with pen tucked under my arm,
sippy cup slipping from my left hand,
we meander to a meeting
so important I must attend
even on my day off.

In the conference room,
they stand almost as one body.
Their business faces removed,
eyes fixed on the screen,
linked by a contrail,
a fireball,
another contrail,
a new impact.

And my small son,
with a now full diaper,
pulls at my hand
as we stand in this high-rise office building.
His eyes
the pure blue
of a sky where planes
safely deliver little boys to Disneyland.

© Julie Ayers
September 2011

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About Julie Ayers

Seasoned apocaloptimist, keen admirer of well-placed words, fierce mama bear of extra special children, black belt hugger, and advocate for a fashion rebellion which elevates the most human of hearts to socially acceptable outerwear.

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