My mother was busy in the kitchen
Making my father’s lunch and sipping coffee,
Assembling sandwiches, slipping a love note
On a pink Post-It note under his napkins.
The TV news was on in the living room,
Forgotten, the sound turned low.
The sky outside was still dark, the sun still slept
But I was up. I sat in my pjs, with my coloring book
At the kitchen table, in the yellow glow of the light
Filling in shapes with scribbles of bright, waxy crayon.
Dad’s heavy tread on the stairs turned my head.
His curly beard tickled my lips as I kissed him goodbye;
He smiled and called me Pumpkin, and exchanged
A kiss with Mom for his lunch. Minutes later,
My nose against the cold window, I saw his brake lights
Flash three times in the dark: I. Love. You.