I remember
sitting in the
Green! grass with you.

I remember laughing,
tumbling,
falling into your arms.

I remember falling too
often, only to have you
catch me.

I remember the nights that
my curtains looked
like mean old monsters
so you let me sleep with you
and your wife, comfortably
between your talking pillows.

I remember you watching over me,
letting me explore and live,
as I so shamelessly do.

You're still there for me,
but in this way, it's different.

Now you're there, thirty minutes away.
Now you're there to see me off to my first dance,
from another man's house, and only because you had driven
yourself there.

You're not there anymore and it isn't your fault.
Don't get me wrong, I'm so happy with how our lives have turned out, but I can't help but wonder what life would be like to come home to just Mom and Dad.