For five years his voice
scared the piss out of me.
Now it's a reminder of
how relative things are.
I heard it last night
in the form of a message.
When he called
I sent him to voice mail
since I didn't feel up to
pretending to be anything
than what I was: lonesome
in a crowd.
As soon as he finished
I dialed and listened.
"Hi, Mike. It's Dad.
Josh keeps running
around the house
saying 'Michael, where are you?'
It's really cute."
He hands the phone
to my two-year-old brother
for corroboration.
"Mi-cull. Broth-er,"
he chirps into the mouthpiece
with an innocence
that can't help
but make me smile
even though I can hear
him being coaxed
a bit from the background.
"Where are you, Mi-cull?
Mommy says..." and then
our father repossesses the phone
while the kid stumbles through
unchartered linguistic territory
that's still mostly undiscernible.
"See? I told you, he misses you.
I took him swimming last week.
He's treading water."
There was more to the recording
but all I could think of
from that point forward
was that one more thing
was shared between the boy and me
aside from common genes.
Treading water, huh?
You and me both, brother.
Let's stay in the game
'til you're old enough
for me to buy you
a celebratory cocktail
or four.
I'll do what he didn't.
I'll tell you where I went wrong
to give you a running start.
You'll never forget
at least one dress
whether or not
you deserved its contents.
Keep kickin'.
Currently reading:
"The Drawing of the Three: The Dark Tower II" by Stephen King.
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