Dear Mom and Daughters On Rented Bikes,

You stopped at my house.

You asked if my oldest daughter was with me this summer. Or the middle one. Or the youngest one.

Your shoulders dropped two inches when I said no. That they were in other cities, working other jobs. Not here, babysitting, just when you needed one.

I said I was sorry, that I would tell them you said hello, and you rode away.

But afterwards, I couldn’t forget the droop in your posture. You looked hot, tired, overwhelmed.

And I wished I had said what I am thinking now: I’ll watch your kids for you.

Because I miss mine. And someday, you’ll miss yours too.

Very sincerely,

Mom on the porch