Walking down the front path

The same age as me when I left, no older,
you got in a stranger’s car with a new start

in sight, a friend’s arm around your shoulder,
steering you towards a life of which I was no part.

The rear view was blocked, I moved a little closer
to stand on the pavement, felt the drop of my heart

as I realised your childhood was already over
and the labyrinth of womanhood was about to start.

Kim M. Russell, 7th October 2020






My response to Poets and Storytellers United Weekly Scribblings #40: Walking Away

Rosemary is back this Wednesday with a poignant poem by Cecil Day-Lewis, which I love. She says if she was still doing Wild Fridays, she would have to create a new category: Heartbreakers.

Today we are writing about ‘walking away’. Rosemary says it need not be a heartbreaker; we might write about a walking away that is triumphant, joyful, or a case of doing the right thing. We might be watching someone else walk away, or perhaps we are doing the walking in a new poem, or a piece of prose, fiction or non-fiction, with a maximum of 369 words (excluding title).

28 thoughts on “Walking down the front path

  1. My kids are at around that age. I know the pandemic means I get to hold on to Darling Eldest for a few moments more. But eventually this will end and both Eldest and Youngest will be off starting new adventures. I can feel my heart ache a bit thinking about it.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I found this very moving…I know this happens to everyone but it is a sort of sorrowful mile stone in a life…People have different mechanisms of coping and . I am always amazed how anyone gets through anything.Enjoyed this one.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I remember well the day my oldest son left. It was the day after he turned 18! He grew up so fast. It was easier since I had two little ones still left. I believe I wrote in his baby book, “Things will never be the same.” No, they weren’t, but they weren’t bad, and that was quite a dramatic thing to think! Children should move away! Maybe not from California to Massachusetts though!
    Your poem brought the memory of that day back, with my mother at the train station, her turning and leaving abruptly with tears, saying she’d never see him again. She did, but only a few times.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. This is well wtitten, childhood gear shifting. The same in calandar age but she was ahead in body age. That’s a tough time for teenagers. (When the other’s known it is easily faked and/or prompted. Been there.)

    Liked by 1 person

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