Family
too many voices for one house,
too many shoes by the door,
too much life to ever be quiet.
Two grandparents hold it all together—
hands worn soft from years of trying,
love stretched thin but never breaking.
They make room where there isn’t any,
they make it work because it has to.
Our mom calls when she can.
Her voice is love and distance at once.
She tells us she misses us,
and we believe her.
Some love stays real
even when it can’t stay close.
Our dad is a name we don’t say.
A shadow we step around.
Some stories don’t need telling
to be understood.
Still, we are fed.
Still, we are watched over.
Still, someone checks if we made it home.
Family isn’t perfect or whole—
it’s who shows up,
who protects the best they can,
and who stays
when staying is hard.
And somehow,
that has been enough
to keep us standing.
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