Copyright © 2013 C.L. Mannarino
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I’ll be here.


I’ll be waiting in the wings at the end of the show with the bouquet of flowers and the loving smile that tells you when you did a good job and not to listen to the naysayers.


I’ll be in your doorway, with the hall light on and the closet door closed and the sound of rain tapping your window in an arrhythmic beat.


I’ll be at the school, in the car with the engine running, reading a paperback while you make your life decisions and holding a box of tissues, just in case you need them. (I’m not sure you do. I think you know yourself better than you let on.)


I’ll be at your grandmother’s house while the world falls apart, first in small, manageable pieces and then in larger, out-of-control waves that will crawl across the ocean at you, and I will place my hand on your shoulder and remind you that you know how to swim, that you can run from these waves, you can stand against them, or you can dive right in.


I’ll be at the table you set for your family and friends and loved ones with food from seven different cultures and a myriad of voices coloring the air while you eat and laugh and enjoy.

I’ll be here.


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