Walking With My Grandson

Having walked to the edge
of the street he pauses
as I sternly call his name.
‘Isaiah! No!’
He looks back and I
hold his gaze from a few
feet away with my best
‘I really mean this.’ face.

There is no immediate danger,
the street is empty
but there are so many
future streets to be
crossed and I must keep
my little friend alive
long enough to absorb
the calculus of urban life.

He will surely and gradually
internalize the invisible
boundaries of protection
I now cast around our
rambles around the neighborhood.

But at not yet two, his
full comprehension is still
in the future, so I quickly
walk over to grasp
his hand mittened hand
and direct his attention
elsewhere—no show-down
of authority necessary.

I explain again the dangers
of the rushing cars and trucks
he adores and offer the ancient
truism of not playing
in the street but there’s
no traffic now and I know
he’s still too young to fully believe.

So for now, I stay
close and keep careful
watch for both of us.