When I was 15 years old, I called my Dad
“Our ceiling is broken. I can see the clouds above my bed”.
I never had any idea how to fix the broken ceiling, neither my Dad
I was too little to know if I need to repair our house
I should call a handyman, not my Dad

When I was 11 years old, I said to my Mom
“I am going to pool with friends this afternoon”.
Two hours after I came home hungry, but my Mom wasn't there
I was too little to know if I hungry
I should learn to cook my own food,
instead of crying over Mom’s absence.

When I was 15 years old I never invited any friends to our house
because we had a broken ceiling
Days passed and the house did not want to invite me
back to home again.
The broken ceiling cried, leaked. I called my Dad,
“I think there is something wrong with the electricity. Everything is shut down”,
I called my Mom,
“I am hungry, there is nothing left to eat in our fridge”.

Ten years passed, I left the house, now I can cook my own food
And at least I know where to call a handyman
Sometimes memories of the house with a broken ceiling still invite me,
and now I’m on my way to repair it.