A New Fixed Place by Nancy Schatz Alton

I still see you in your broad striped onesie, blue & minty green

watch you roll across the wood floor:

you propel yourself where you want to go.

 

I read that I was your fixed place.

Slowly, I am no-longer-your-fixed place.

You are becoming your own fixed place.

 

You wear striped shirts covered by sweatshirts,

your toothbrush in a to-go bag,

your car fueled up and ready to ride.

 

You clean your room, wash your clothes weekly

& propel yourself forward mostly out of my eyesight

then you stop & rest, pushing yourself against me on our couch.

 

I swear you’re just gaining traction:

a better way to propel yourself forward:

you gather my stationary energy & fly away at an even faster pace.