He steps through the door after school
dark unruly hair tousled further by wind
face expectant, dark eyes worried,
mouth deciding whether or not it’s right to smile
A litany of undone chores crosses my mind
I’m about to ask about his day
and how much homework
ready to rattle off reminders
But I stop and watch him step
lean and long-legged through the door
lugging the backpack weighted by books
the violin in its ebony case bouncing
black pants black coat black hoodie
His face so much like that of his mother
whose death still haunts us two years past
How can one dwell on the disrespect
of even the day before
in the face of his fascinating
many-faceted mind sometimes so unfamiliar
How can I feel anything but wonder
and gratitude that he is in my life
I miss his childhood
and find myself thinking
I should have fought harder to keep him close
endured the misery and acrimony and risked
dismantling lies with hard-won truth
He stands in front of me
all but flinching and
says hey
and I say
I love you
I’m proud of you
I’m sorry.
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