I walked a labyrinth.

Painted with highway paint.

Lavender.

On asphalt.

I walked barefoot.

The pavement hot.

An occasional pebble under my wimpy feet.

A sticker left by a school-aged child.

I felt the others.

I felt their energy.

As we walked in silence.

Leaving our baggage at the entrance.

Except my baggage followed me in.

This time.

The sadness of my saddest child.

I carried him with me.

I wondered what others were carrying.

The heat of the sun on my face and feet.

The hum of the air conditioner.

The occasional screech from a child on the playground.

Stay present.

I wanted to hug them all.

Each one.

To take the burden off of what they brought in.

I so desperately wanted to hug them.

As our shoulders grazed.

It’s a small labyrinth.

Made for children.

But this morning it was ours.

The closeness of our shared mission.

To meditate, be present.

To walk in silence.

And then I cried.

Tears of sadness.

Tears for him.

Tears of realization.

That the longing to hug was for me.