Only Love

“Buckle your seat belt,” Mom says with a sigh that could

fall the leaves from the trees. I do,

and she nods contentedly as she hears the click,

smiling as if she could melt the sun.

 

“Be careful!” Dad says, watching me run,

popsicle in my hand, around the

chlorine pool. I frown,

toes burning into the hot concrete,

my pink bathing suit bleached from blistering sun.

He laughs, and tells me the slow lane

is for safe drivers.

I laugh, and walk with tortoise speed towards the pool steps.

 

“You’ve got it,” my brother says, enveloping me in a hug before the ACT.

He pushes my glasses up for me, and whispers

that I’ve always been the smart one, but if I want a failsafe,

Mom and Dad’s basement has enough room for the both of us,

and we can stay kids forever.

 

“I don’t get it, but I care.” He says chuckling, listening to me

rant and rave about anything imaginable. Me, with a book in my hand;

him, with his jersey on, as I tell him every thought I’ve had

since breakfast and since birth. Somedays his eyebrows furrow,

or his brown eyes scrunch, always listening.

 

“It’s going to be okay,” she says, as she holds my hand under the

stall door as I throw up again. My Chuck Taylors squeak the bathroom tiles

and she tells me she’ll be right back. I feel nauseous and lonely again,

but she comes back with my backpack slung over her shoulder,

and says she’s driving me home, whether I like it or not.

 

Love

is waking up next to somebody

that annoys you sometimes,

and still deciding

to make eggs for them.

 

Love

is teaching your child

unconditional

is not a lie.

 

Love

does not take advantage,

manipulate,

or hurt.

 

Love

does not play your heartstrings

to a tune of

bad intentions.

 

Love

is sincere,

selfless,

honest,

and kind.

 

Anything else

is not love

only hate pretending to be.

 

Only love

heals,

hopes,

and recovers. 

This poem is about: 
My family

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