By Carolyn Riker
You left me outside by the quarter-a-ride spotted rocking pony.
All I wanted was to sit and pretend to ride. Before you even spoke I heard, “No. Not today.”
We were always in a hurry.
I begged and pleaded, the way a typical four year old would. You shamed and scolded, “Act like a big girl.” Stubborn, I watched you go.
I didn’t cry as you walked away.
When my tiny world of rebellion had run its course, I knew I needed to find you. I walked the aisles and when I didn’t see you, I fought the tears and panic erupting inside.
It became too much for me to hold. My lip trembled and tears swelled. With help, I finally found you holding a bag of frozen peas, next to your cold heart.
I was so relieved.
But you weren’t. Your shaky stern words tumbled out, “I hope you learned a lesson.”
Your grip was tight. And for the longest time, I feared I’d lose my way whenever I was lost or lonely. But I’ve learned to find that little girl inside and hold her tightly.
I often whisper, “It’s going to be alright, I found you.”
And I always tell her how much she is loved.
*blog originally appeared here.
Carolyn Riker, MA is a private tutor, writer and a poet. She is also a Certified Instructor for Journal Writing and provides workshops. Carolyn finds comfort and balance in her kids, nature, music and her sweet cat Copper. She can be seen sipping soy lattes and nibbling on dark chocolate. She’s a regular columnist for Rebelle Society and formerly at Elephant Journal. She also has a personal blog here. You can also visit Carolyn’s facebook page here. Her poems are featured in Journey of the Heart: An Anthology of Spiritual Poetry by Women.
Editor: Dana Gornall