I was born with you and white hair, sitting in that chair.
Worrying, wondering, planning.
How will it be for us, for me, for our family ?
Can we make it, will we need your help, are we safe ?
Your daughter, son, becoming a real family, tangible.
Inseparable, impenetrable, solid, and for this moment, it was true.
As for the future, no one knows for sure.
You pour the into the glass, and lite a cigarette to relax.
The call will come, soon, Mary will take it.
You will smile, it will be OK.
You have been here before Grandpa, once or twice.
And for this moment, it will all be true.
