Motherhood

On pleasant evenings
the young woman from the next
building will have an awkward game
of catch football with her son,
maybe six, in the common yard
outside my window. They are not
athletes – technically it is more
a game of throw, chase, and
pick up. They may or may not
get better with time, but that
is not the point. There may be
a hundred more womanly things
on her mind, but she is in
this time, with him, and he is
pleased. That is all we know
or really need to about her.

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