Just the Other Day

It seems like just the other day
That your dad placed you in my arms
All pink and smooth and warm
And I cooed, “Just think, someday he’ll have whiskers on that sweet little chin.”
But I didn’t really believe it.

And I remember just the other day
When the nurse showed me your footprint
Side-by-side with “a normal baby’s prints,”
And I gasped, “He’ll wear huge shoes someday.”

And wasn’t it just the other day
That you stood proudly up against the wall
Where we measured and marked and figured
And I laughed, “He’ll be taller than his dad someday!”

I know it was just the other day
That you toddled off alone down the trails of Big Sur
And came laughing home to my frantic cries…
And you ran off down the Fremont Peak trails,
Herded home by our faithful Misty…
And you strolled casually around Lake Calabasas,
Riding proudly home in the police car,
Accompanied by the sound of the searching helicopters…
And I sighed, “He’ll strike out on his own someday.”
But I didn’t really believe it.

Then just yesterday, we drove to the University,
Unpacked your razor and your size 13 shoes,
And I drove away
Waving hard in the rear view mirror
Leaving you to strike out on your own…
And me with a six-foot three-inch hole in my heart.

—Joan Lindsay Kerr

A former teacher and curriculum specialist, Joan Kerr is loving retired life spending time with her children and grandchildren and exploring the world with her husband, Rob. She usually writes travel stories, but finds that poetry is a better genre for moments of strong emotion.