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soften the blow
soften the blow
couch the criticism in suggestion
respect the integrity
let a child know he is loved
despite his falling short
let him grow on strong foundation
banister to wisdom
childhood memory, decades later
at the head of the flight of steep stairs
i climb up and on, my right foot dangling
fifteen feet over the narrow hallway below
i close my eyes, afraid, but determined
i’ve seen my uncles and my older sister do this
but i wouldn’t try when they could watch
my palms are slippery as i try to grip
the dark, polished wood
slowly i ease my near-prehensile toes
from around the uprights
and let my bum first begin to move
i lift my left foot from its final anchor
the slide begins in earnest, balled red-plaid dress
and white cotton panties against the lacquered railing
i clutch at but cannot grasp the smooth, wide rail
i swoosh faster and faster, gritting baby teeth
to keep from screaming
a gasp escapes my mouth as i descend
but grandma doesn’t hear me until
i’ve reached the round, decorative curl-end post
swished near sideways off it and clattered to the wooden floor
i’m not crying, exactly, but mama would have rushed to pick me up
and coo sweet assurances
but grandma, mother of three boys, stands arms akimbo
come over here, she says, and I’ll pick you up
I’d have come to you but I have a bone in my leg
i stagger up, blinking, to check that i’m okay
next time, don’t come down so fast, she says over her shoulder
as she returns to the kitchen
i feel so bad about that bone in her leg
i hold onto the banister as I look back up its height
so much to learn