Waiting

When your firstborn stops speaking 
to you in her fourth decade, you
are in your sixth— The first time 

you leave her and your other 
children in the care of others 
for graduate school, she 

is eleven. For every warning about 
the perils of having done this 
unmotherly thing, you get 

more encouragement about the sound-
ness of following your dreams. No matter
that women are told they no longer

have to sublimate their desires—
Distance is distance, after the cord 
has been cut. This is another way 

you come to understand time 
is never an easy thing that may be 
bargained with, or for. The white 

surface of a sheet of paper, 
a slate-gray sky. The way you scan 
for signs of rain and proof of life.