Will the children remember the yellow curtains
in the living room? The picture of their grandfather
you keep on your desk? Will the bonfire on the beach
burn away all traces of forest hikes and camping?
They know—the children—the movie themes
and the advertising jingles. The car keys and the
dorm rooms and the pay stubs are not far behind.
Soon they’ll be filled
with the quickest routes to work when it rains,
savings goals, ambivalence over whether
to have a mechanic listen to that grinding sound,
exercise routines, their bosses’ idiosyncrasies,
their spouses’ favorite desserts. And what of you?
What will they hold of you? Your taste for
Stephen Sondheim? Your temper? The joke you once told them
about the cow who couldn’t remember “moo”?
What will you be to them when their own children
are banging at the windows?
Max Gutmann has contributed to dozens of publications including New Statesman, The Spectator, Able Muse, and Green Hills Literary Lantern. His plays have appeared throughout the U.S. and have been well-reviewed (see maxgutmann.com). His book There Was a Young Girl from Verona sold several copies.