My Boy is Flying to New York Today

A few minutes ago you were buzzing around on a scooter, zipping off on a bicycle, waving from a skateboard, driving a car down the boulevard on a date, flashing a smile from the commencement platform. Wait, wait, do you have your ID? A jacket? Your phone? The mom alert, like a motion detector light, always set off by each departure. My heart is winging across the country with you, just outside your Jet Blue window. I see your tray table lowered, holding ginger ale, your eyes focused on the ten-inch screen in the seatback. If you would gaze out the window would you see me in the sky like Chagall’s goat above the rooftop? God knows a mother’s heart always goes with her children. Do you?