Burdened by the weight of so many books, expectations,
not dreams 'cause I didn't know true wishes yet,
I walked slowly, reluctantly towards home,
place of restrictions, of old people unwilling to accept
newness, modern times, and me,
speaking their tongue, while delighting in ethnic treats,
wondering what real kids ate.
I shut them out, of my room and my thoughts
they didn't care
about my struggles, concerns or successes,
what I did to fit the pieces in the puzzle of my life.
Many nights, my growing pains so fierce,
they sat, not knowing what to do.
trying what they could to pacify my groans.
I rolled my eyes with intolerance
at their attempts to parent me,
who walked through clouds
of foggy, oblivious certainty.
But, it's really true what they say about time.
Today when I walk and think of them,
Now I recognize them as an ever giving presence,
the way I recognize the sun.
Don't think I could be more grateful for my grandparents who raised me, loved me and put up with me.
(Submitted to Dverse Poe where we are prompted to write about growing up, and Poets United)