The suggestion that my son has “social issues”

comes from the mouth of a first grade teacher

who says my child stumbles up a steep rocky hill at recess

alone instead of playing statues or rhythmically pumping a swing.

               He told me he’s training to climb the Massanutten.

               “What?” her eye-roll shows white.

               I nod at the window, point past the slide

               “It’s that mountain over there.”

                              I never took off my jacket

                              so there’s no awkward  pause to put it on.

                              I rise and take my son’s still soft hand,

                              pass the cubbies, leave the room,

                              walk up the hallway ramp.

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About the Author

Krista Farris

Krista’s poems, essays, and stories have been published in a variety of journals and magazines. Links to her recent writing can be found . She lives in Virginia with her husband and three sons. She marvels at the rate her three sons are growing and is increasingly afraid to blink.