Sitting at my window, I spy my neighbors. Douglas and Anna have brought their children to our community and spread their happiness throughout the building. Joshua and Samantha, were born here.

I watched them grow from infants to babies to little children. Anna, with her babies in the carriage, used to stroll through the halls and point to the prints on the wall. Samantha would sleep. Joshua would stare at the picture of a harlequin for a moment then say “‘casso.” When Douglas played music, Joshua would say “Mozart.” He was always right.

This morning, I heard a small, commanding voice. Joshua was navigating the path around the little garden. A bright red chin strap held his safety helmet firmly in place. He sat proudly on his scooter that was low enough for his feet to touch the ground. It was his car, his Porsche, his Lamborghini. He was a pirate king steering his own course through rough Atlantic seas. He was Lord of the Manor and Black Beauty was his steed. 

Sitting down, he pedaled forward with his slender legs as he shouted to his sister to get out of the way because he might hit her. Samantha stood defiantly on her chubby legs and watched him approach. He was turning the corner. She stood her ground, shook her little index finger at him, chided him and then, little sparrow that she was, chirped loudly and flew quickly to the safety of the grass.

Anna sat nearby, watching her children play and squabble, knowing they were growing stronger each day. They were learning to navigate the world by themselves.

As I watched, I remembered my first-born son arriving on time to teach me, in an instant, that there was a different world to explore. I thought about my second son, thrust too early into this harsh life to teach me that there were new, treacherous roads to follow. In my mind, I re-lived all the times that I will never live again. Now, I watch my children maneuver their way through a maze I barely understand. Their lives will be very different from mine. In some ways, it will be easier for them. In others, it will be infinitely harder. Somehow, they have found a path around the walls of denial and ignorance. They have skirted the roads of anger and cruelty. They will make this a better place for having been here.