Dauntless and selfless, you stand watch. The last to sleep, first to wake. Always on guard. 

You move among us in sometimes secret ways at dark hours around sharp edged dangers that squeak, and beep, and really really bite at the heels. 

Your measured footsteps falling too close to that special thing that should have been put in a special space. Dammit. Lego. Hurts. And why don't they ever put their $#!+ away!? 

Why would they? The precious want to be found. 

Besides, finding the lost, broken, tumbled, tossed and in need of mending, is part of your grand purpose. 

Who else could see these things? 

Super powered supervision goes beyond x-rays. It stretches and flows through memory into sacred moments, touchstones, and photo albums. Such travels in time, defy the sound barrier, and make past a present- a gift given often that then flees again, behind the couch. Under the bed. Into the backpack. Or into the mouth. 


Thank goodness! THANK GOD FOR THIS! That you want to be, because you have to be, and just because you need to be, you are everywhere. 

No secret that your identity is known. Intentions are never masked nor caped. And to those in your care hero status means little. As long as their dreamy innocence is protected by the most powerful person in their universe. 

How unremarkably amazing it would be to have your own hero reading stories before bed. Doing pickup after school. And making KD for dinner. 

Some superheroes clock in and out chasing the minimum waging battle between me time and ‘thee’ time. Not you. False calls happen but still you fly in. Them dreaming. Or mumbling. Or screaming. Or wrestling with dark thoughts and crying out. Their villians are your demons and they will always have a kryptonite hold.

Still best to check up, tuck in and peck lightly. Other times when you are called to action it means lifting fevers like a broken bridge. Some superheroes track wins and losses like stock markets. But winlosswinlossswin in its metronomic meter throws shade on shine and sure to unsure. 

Lost footage of meltdowns and fall downs like pieces of glass 
and iron tumbling and crashing to the carpet in sobs ...my god honey it was only a toy you almost say, but your heart stops you and reminds you that imagined pain takes imagination and makes itself real, just like love.

Sure that action looks great on film, but, the truth about superheroes is that there’s no marvel in the work no justice in their league. It just is what it is. 

When true heroes do get caught on film- no poses, no pretense, no pauses, few witnesses. Hugs and kisses pay the debt in full. Public works of private love is never work. And in private your labour never ended. Nor could it. 

Your fond, small, followers are smiling and safe. They are your origin story - prologue, epilogue, and all chapters not yet written. And your future, standing together and moving in opposites or wrestling or arguing or door slamming is the highlight reel. Making futures for themselves and
presents of your past.

This little big planet is under your protection. Mom, teacher, actor, mentor, guardian angel. Your family, rests safely, securely. So future battles are not worth stating and do not withstand the beauty of now.

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