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dear mother,
I see how you draw the night over you like your favorite sweater,
Retiring to your room only to reappear at the first sign of headlights
Standing soft-footed in the kitchen,
Hair mussed from attempts at sleep
You seem to be the child
Waiting for your parents to come home
And not the other way around.
When rain pounds an erratic heartbeat against the skylight
You cast a worried look at the slick dark strip of driveway
And check the news for crashes on the highway
You told me once you couldn't get to sleep until we were home safe.
I remember staring at the celling of my darkened room,
Watching for the slow crawl of headlights through the window,
The low rumble of the garage door
The smile in your voice as you greet the babysitter
Knowing finally
That I was home.
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