My mother, my father
digging up weeds, planting peach pits
rolling out the garden hose
the old wooden fence
past the lavender path, which smelled
so good in the sun
on the other side, growing quiet as
we grew loud, making peace as
we became unsettled.
"You need to make yourself happy
before you can save the world.” “I don’t know
if I can be happy
unless I am trying.”
"You’re young." and don’t understand
the sacrifices, what it means
to feel the weight of responsibility
forty plus one-hundred-twenty-eight hours a week.
You’re too young to grow weary; that’s
what the neighbors are. You’re not there yet.
So tie your laces and run
because you can
your body says,
"It’s not time to grow weary yet."