“Time for you to go out to the places you will be from” – “Closing Time” by Semisonic (written by Dan Wilson about the birth of his daughter.)
The drive home from the hospital
is a shared experience of new parents,
The abrupt re-entrance into the churning, unpredictable world
After days of soft whiteness, scheduled medications,
professionals hovering above the fragile life in your arms.
I was born during a snowstorm in mid-December.
I can only imagine my father’s eyes glued to the salted roads,
while my mother’s gaze anchored the precious bundle in her lap.
Two months ago, when I stepped out of my smoking car,
broken class sprinkling out of my hair,
looking at the passenger side doors completely crushed in,
it would be a lie to say I wasn’t utterly rattled.
My body felt like a cloth doll
when I saw how easily the metal frame had crushed in.
I saw but could not feel the cuts dotting my arms,
my skin the thinnest web of tissue,
torn by the tiniest fragments of the massive impact.
But in the hours that followed,
the thought that undid me
every time I finally controlled my tears and tremors
was of my parents thousands of miles away,
lying awake in a restless bed,
staring into the dark hard enough, almost,
to bring their baby home.