The speaker looks back at childhood and at a mother who now seems to live partly in the past. The opening image of clothes worn while learning to run in a grandmother's yard "never ceased to fit" suggests that those early years still belong to the speaker, even as time moves on. The title, "Distancing," hints at the gap that grows between people, or between who we were and who we are.
The mother appears in small, ordinary scenes: wet socks, food about to be served, a wish to go back out and find old friends. The speaker imagines her at graduations, plays, and celebrations, as if she keeps returning to moments that have passed. Her waiting at the door is something the family "may never understand."
The dog that runs into the street, unable to turn the corner, seems to echo her. The mood is tender and quietly sad, with a mix of puzzlement and affection. The speaker watches closely but cannot quite reach her.