You'll Understand

You asked me why I always check the locks twice. Why I keep

a twenty in the truck just in case. Why I wave at folks I

barely recognize. Why I still wear grandpa's watch with a faded face.

You laughed when I said, "Don't trust July skies." When I warned

you about the quiet before the storm. You rolled your eyes at my

slow goodbyes. And the way I keep your baby shoes in a drawer.

But you'll understand when the porch light's on and you're waiting up though the

night feels long. When you hear your daddy's voice in your own and you find