Was he alone?

 They both asked, without exactly asking.
Worrying about a baby who is no longer so young, in a void that isn’t empty anymore.
Neither one quite able to reconcile this boy looking so tiny
with our big twelve year old brother, who nowadays rarely looks small at all.
Watching as he makes his own footprints in the footprint left by the machine.
Wearing a coat but no shoes, his hands and face poised in concentration.
I should have shown them the words on the back, the ones written in blue pencil
proving that babies in this family are not allowed to travel alone.
Someone took the picture, I told them, someone watched him while he walked.

A lonely moment is harder to capture.

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