When I was four my mother left me outside
While she shopped.
I wandered off but she found me.
When Karl was eight he sailed Lake Michigan alone
Until night fell.
When my daughter was six
She walked a mile through the woods to the
School bus stop
Stopping to look at interesting rocks.
When I was seven I trudged to
A luncheonette four blocks from my school
And ate a scrambled egg sandwich.
When my son was twelve
He disappeared for hours
Home for dinner.
When my daughter was two I drove to California in a VW bus
Without a car seat or seat belt.
Sometimes she sat on my lap and helped steer.
I don’t know if I am horrified
And amazed we survived