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.