This isn’t the first morning
that I’ve thought about the world
that keeps turning without me
there to hold everything together
but I never intended to miss you

and I’d deny it if you or anyone asked
because I wasn’t meant to miss anything about home-
not the sirens or the car horns in the traffic that doesn’t move,
the driving that is too fast, the music that is too loud,
or the constant fighting we pretend to forget.

I remind myself of all the reasons
I needed to put 500 miles between us,
of all the things that make it
impossible not to resent you.

You’ve never been one for fatherly advice
but I guess you gave me plenty
in the form of really awful jokes and stories
that are funny to everyone except me.

The afternoons I spent waiting
when you forgot to pick me up.
The week you were in the hospital
after starting a bar fight and tripping
before the first punch was ever thrown,
breaking two ribs, puncturing a lung.
The times you yelled and I slammed doors.

Now that I’m gone it doesn’t seem to matter
that I spent all of my energy
forcing you into the mold of a father
I needed because somehow, without me noticing,
the distance has made it easy to forget
why I went so far away.

The years of fighting have become fuzzy memories
and I can admit you never meant to hurt me
because you couldn’t hurt someone if you tried.
I can see under the stories of a childlike dad
are good times with the man who tries so hard
to do the right thing but just can’t.