Safe

Breathe in. Breathe out.

My heart beats strongly in my chest.

My feet are planted firmly on the ground.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

I close my eyes and see my mother,

standing at the sink like a bird,

one leg balancing on her knee,

she scrubs dishes in hot, soapy water.

Her voice, the first I heard,

the one I’ve always known,

sings softly.

Through the window above the sink,

warm sunlight streams in,

and dances off little trinkets she sets on the sill;

a pair of her earrings, a ring,

a wooden carving of a bird my sister picked out,

one summer at the beach.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

I am back in bed with my sisters.

They whisper and giggle.

I hear my mother’s bathtub running,

Proof that she’s there,

moving, living, breathing,

just feet away from me.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Downstairs, the T.V turns on.

My father’s footsteps,

distinguishably his,

walk through the kitchen.

Ice clinks into a glass.

A bag of chips opens.

The sounds a symphony of consistency,

reliability, dependability.

My father a wall of protection,

Nothing gets through.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

I close my eyes and step into,

The garage; golf commentators drone on,

the soft dink of a hit ball,

the muffled claps of standers-by,

Sets the scene for a dad who cleans,

Slowly and methodically,

In a pair of torn up, paint-stained green shorts,

I hope he never throws away.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

I’m in my uniform.

Blue and white,

Number 4.

I defend,

That is my job,

Strong legs,

And on the sidelines,

There he stands,

My father in a dress shirt and slacks,

Came from work,

Never misses a game.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

I channel the makings of myself.

The constant forces of good.

I squeeze one hand,

Make a fist,

I squeeze the other...

Back and forth,

Back and forth,

The pendulum of my life.

Breathe.