The Graduation Heist
She drove away with our boys again, In her Highlander with no payments due, While I stood watching from our Honda’s pain, Our cracked taillight reflecting it all.
With two matching shirts, shoes untied, Nearly missing a hug of father’s pride they came, She packed them up with mother’s pride, While I was banned from their big game.
“Where’s Papa?” asked the little one, Adjusting his borrowed graduation cap, “He’s busy, dear,” she said and spun Another tale to fill the gap.
The school gymnasium filled with chairs, All arranged like jury benches neat, She saved no seat for father’s cares, Just smoothed their cowlicks, made complete Their day of triumph, bittersweet.
What boy has the right to know, I wonder, What keeps his father from the crowd? The principal’s voice rolled like thunder About futures bright and making proud These children who must learn to live With questions that have no reply, And mothers who can only give Half-truths wrapped in lullaby.
The applause echoed through the hall, Like distant storms that promise rain, She clapped for two but heard just one, Celebrating joy and pain In measured beats that sound like time Marching past what used to be— A family whole, a nursery rhyme That ended in custody.
And someday soon these boys will ask For truths that don’t fit greeting cards, They’ll see through mother’s careful mask And demand the missing shards Of stories told in courthouse halls, Where love becomes a legal fight, And fathers learn that justice crawls While children grow beyond their sight.
~J on 2025-05-22