The quiet buzzing of chatter recedes,

Leaving only the creaking of risers

and the rustling of small children,

Unable to sit still.

The acoustics cause an echo

Of every sniffle and cough

Or adjustment of legs.

Perched lightly on flimsy plastic chair

Leaning forward, my eyes lock in quickly

On my sons eagerly bouncing form

Emulating nervous energy.

If I am a compass, he is north,

Always drawn to where he is.

My surroundings are second, though permeating,

With overwhelming scents like a rolling fog

Of perfume and aftershave,

Dry muffins and dull coffee,

Dubious eggs and sausages

Invade the stagnant air

Of an elementary cafeteria.

Stifling nostalgia,

Reminiscent of a time,

When it was my mother in the crowd

And I sat on the stage.

Other adults fidget, phones in hand

Ready to capture their children

In a small moment

When they sing their hearts out

To impress and captivate

An ever willing crowd.

My son still hasn’t found me.

His eyes wander while I barely blink,

A green gaze darting around the large room,

Nearly frantic in his search,

Skipping over my attuned focus

Unable to spot me in the thick crowd

When I could see him in orbit

As if he is the earth

And I, his moon.

However, I am just his mom.

And he is only seven.

The principal begins her prattling

Thanking the parents

As couples turn to each other,

Love in their eyes

Their child a crowning achievement,

Their hands interlocked.

My sight never wavers,

Knowing he must see me before they start,

So he knows his mom is here.

I can feel his excitement stale

As his search remains futile,

His confidence waning

His body caving inward

As he continues to skip over

The third row fourth chair,

As if a bubble surrounds me

Erasing me from his sight.

My heart fractures at his sadness

With the knowledge that

If he could just see me,

All would be well in his world.

But then! Finally!

It is not dramatic to say

His eyes lit up entirely

His shoulders peel back

His neck straightens and his smile strains across his small face,

For he has found his mom.

My smile matches his, warm and loving.

His happiness is palpable

Maybe to no one else

But searing to my soul,

To know that my presence

Can cause him to feel loved.

I am here, I am here, I am here

I support you, I love you, I see you

I know you, I am proud of you.

His joy is mine,

And in that moment,

While our eyes meet

With mirroring smiles

We are both filled with it.