Pieces Of My Heart

Pieces of my heart are
missing,
not broken
or destroyed,
more a parting
than a ripping,
for I do not grieve.

Children grow up.

They do that if you
take your eyes
off them
for a moment.

Then inexplicably
they want to leave
your little sphere,
that you naively
presumed they would
always be part of.

They can return of course,
with new loved ones,
tales of adventure and success,
or survival (please spare the details)

It is always harder
for those who are left
than those who go,
especially if those who go
forget to call or write.

I'm not sure if the
pieces of my heart
will ever truly reconnect,
or if that is a parent's calling
to have a fragmented heart
across the globe,
that causes intermittent aching,
but a quiet smile of thankfulness
as treasured memories return.

I am grateful for the gift
that I can know
the depth of love for children
that causes this uncomfortable
sensation now,
and I choose to trust God
to hold me in future days
with the other pieces of my heart.