Walking in Circles

My three boys catch my eye in the rearview mirror.

Piled in the back with their father, they slap and lean into each other constantly.

Their skin is taut and tan, shining in the summer sun as we inch along the highway.

They look like brown trout, who move constantly in the current just to stay in one place.

It occurs to me when I glance back, that these slippery fish, are slipping
through my veined hands that desire nothing more than to hold on to them.

I take the freeze frame image in the mirror as a gift.

The picture of them in this honda piled on each other makes me laugh and suddenly tear up.

It is the sweet sound of summer with my beautiful school of brown trout,
that will swim upstream soon enough.