She had hoped to never see me again.
Yet
Here I go.

Wednesday,
I get to see my shrink.

when I was little,
we had blue carpet in the living room.

it was soft and almost deep,
like a sea to a 4 year old.

I loved it.
but as with all good things apparently,
it had to go.

when i was a clumsy toddler
of course you caught me when i fell.

when i had grown a little,
i remember well,
you held onto me while we slept,
so i wouldn't fall off of the couch to the blue carpet.

now, as I'm older,
you don't catch me as much.
Thank you for not always catching me when i fall,
but rather helping me pull myself back up to stand when i land.

i think that's maybe more important.

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.

trace my spine.
crash your lips upon mine.

take me away,
darling so divine.

break that clock,
we don't need the time.

for a moment, a second,
you are all mine.