Just by being alive.

Since my younger child turned two,
I've become afraid to take my eyes off them.

Until a little while ago,
they couldn't do anything
unless I helped them,

but lately,
they want to do everything themselves,
saying "me do it, me do it."

They try to put on their shoes.
They try to climb up on chairs.

Before I know it,
their hands are reaching for places
they shouldn't be able to reach.

The fact that they can do more things
also means that the time I can't take my eyes off them
has increased.

One morning.

As usual,
I took my child and left through the front door.

And then, I locked the door.

In that instant,
they shook off my hand
and started running toward the road.

My mind
went completely blank.

The bag I was trying to put my keys into fell to the ground,
and its contents scattered.

I couldn't move on impulse,
and my legs got tangled.

Seeing me fall,
the child
looked at me blankly.

For a while,
I didn't know how to breathe.

Should I be angry,
or should I blame myself for being careless,
it felt like
neither was right.

A typical morning.
I clear away the dishes my child has eaten from.

On the living room TV,
my child's favorite show,
"Peek-a-boo," is playing.

Wiggling their bottom,
they turned to look at me.

That morning,
is slowly melting into everyday life.

When the channel changed,
news of a suicide was playing.

Was this person, too,
someone's child?

I turn off the TV and head to the entryway.

I am alive.

That alone,
is enough.