A somewhat troubled family,
disjointed and unusual-
sit in a lake house celebrating two birthdays,
my stepfather’s and mine.

Both days close together,
but emotions always miles a part.

This celebration is different-
unfamiliar notes and frequencies
fill the air-
Gut wrenching laughter!

Mom’s got a promotion,
Stepdad uncharacteristically soft and proud.
his combat armor off and weapon laid on the ground.
His battle against us is finally over.

He looks at me
and I see him for the first time,
the man he always could have been,
and I let my guard down.

He asks if I could write a poem about this weekend.
I know exactly what to say:

It’s those quiet moments,
when an outer body experience
drowns out the raucous
times we typically spend together.
those moments when full glasses of
champagne- complimented
by the pitter patter of
jovial children
and tipsy adults-
fill your home.

And you take a moment,
to look at it all,
a still image
saved in your mind like a photograph,
capturing the essence of why
you are you,
and how fortunate you are
to have who you have in your life.

And you are thankful.
For at least in this moment in time,
you were able to capture and place this photo
at the front of your picture book.