You used to stand there in the doorway
Coat zipped higher than my chin
“Call me when you get there”
Like the night might pull me in
I’d say, “I know, I know, I know”
Already reaching for the keys
You’d watch the headlights leave the driveway
Long after you could still see me
Funny what you carry with you
Without knowing that you do
All the little ways somebody loves you
Start sounding just like you
Now you’re halfway down my front steps
And I’m telling you, “Drive slow”
There’s a little ice past midnight
And you’ve got three hours to go
You laugh and say, “I raised you”
I say, “That doesn’t make you right”
Then before I even think it—
“Call me when you get home tonight”
And something in the room goes quiet
Though neither one of us does
I heard your voice come out of mine
And finally knew what growing up was
Not leaving
Not arriving
Not some age you turn into
Just catching yourself worrying
About the ones who worried you
You ask me what I’d do sometimes now
And I still don’t know what to say
You were the one with all the answers
Or you made it look that way
There was a whole life before me
A name before “Mom”
Dreams you had to put somewhere
When all of us came along
I wish I’d asked you sooner
Who you were before I knew
Kids don’t think their parents
Had becoming left to do
Maybe that’s the strangest part—
You never stopped becoming too
Stay another cup of coffee
Tell that story one more time
The ones I used to roll my eyes at
Sound different now somehow
Love keeps changing languages
And somehow means the same
First you taught me how to leave you
Now I’m learning who you became
So when you’re halfway down my front steps
I’ll still tell you, “Drive slow”
You can laugh and call me stubborn
You can say, “I think I know”
I’ll stand there in the doorway
Till your taillights disappear
Doing what you did for all those years
Like I finally see it clear
Call me when you get home
I don’t care how late
You said it all my life
Let me say it anyway
Call me when you get home
I’ll be awake.
