It was that day,
the day after the day before,
when I came back home,
not caring about the cartoon show anymore.
It went dark outside;
my parents were coming home late.
And suddenly, I realized,
it was not the obscurity that scared me,
but loneliness instead.
Responsibilities were stacking in a pile,
while all I could think about was my denial.
I insisted on staying a child,
until I heard my younger self bawling:
“I want to grow up!”
I thought nothing could make me sadder for a while–
and then I saw my mother cry.
I felt guilty at first,
thinking I had caused that burst.
My grandma pulled me close
and said, “They have hearts too.”
Parents cry often,
but in silence, they do.
For all the times I could unblur my vision
and dream with precision–
I am thankful I grew up,
but I wish I had not.