Lessons from today

I retired my old pajamas today. Burning,
trashing and recycling all came to my mind
for the disposal of this old friend, but I decided
to keep them hidden away in the back recesses
of a drawer, among all the other worn-out refugees
from my past. Maybe, I thought, some day I'll

take them out when I have learned to sew from all
of the patched knees and ripped socks of my
future, when children tangle my legs and crying
becomes my alarm clock, when soccer practice
and ballet class become my schedule and dinner
time is the one moment of the day where

I can sit and watch the future unravel before
my eyes as the high chair is replaced with
a booster seat and I time my day with the
honk of the school bus and the swimming
lessons that come right after the last bell rings.
Maybe then I will go to that obscure drawer

and pull out the old brown moth-eaten pants
and think back on the time when life didn't
rise above me like floodwaters, where toys
never were a concern and the only responsibility
I had was my own.