A Parenting Tale

***A Parenting Tale*** He must’ve been Just barely fourteen, but still off as A ninja filling a pillowcase with chocolate on Halloween. Although through all other days his ken was an avocado green, That is actually a deep nubby, buttery green. The older teens, always girls, Stood leaning on the fenders of their parent’s cars, Twirling their lemon curls around Still child-small index fingers While foot tapping to some unknown Time until night cloaked our court. Then, with a wave of the girl’s arms, our son collapsed to fit out through Keyholes or go with the autumn mice Under the garage door, to slink From one girl’s car to three, where Not one pair of pink lips cou answer me if her parents knew her where? Hardly a surprise then one night near ten p.m., When authority alarmed, fist-knocking on our front door. Police? What is the, aaa, problem, sirs?” “You’ve a son we’ve gotten word of. Is he home?” Yes. Well, yes. Certainly, yes. It’s bedtime… He comes down, cool from his room to Join us in the hall, looking face to face, so sliced-olive green. The officers, wasted not a second. “We’ve a warrant for a missing girl, A friend of yours said you knew. Have you seen Anna Joe today?” No. “Have you had company tonight?” No. “Have friends up there with you?” No. Then to us, “We’d like to go up to look.” I was mother-so-proud assuring, “He doesn’t lie. I’d’ve heard company.” Within a minute, the parade came down The stairs: handcuffed girl, officers with son between them and coming to Stand by me, supposing it was safe. I screamed, “You lied! To the police! To us!” Then, I swung my arm back And forward again with force from Knowing how he’d dealt us into danger. I smacked him hard and loud in front of the police in that Scrapbook moment of parenting the idiot Events of a bean-green teen, which also ended musical car nights on our court. ————————————————————————————————- (c) sally young Eslinger 2/6/22