Same As It Ever Was (April 4)

Our son is 21 and I
am in a bar alone
you are
probably at home
with your new wife.
I'm glad. We're cordial
all the years
of separateness have cooled
us - that is fine
but this day I'm reminded
the glue of parenting holds
like something that would stick
chairs to walls for tea parties.
That day, the delivery room
you fainting, almost
never did like blood.
That day bound us
more than wedding vows
or love did. That day
yoked us. So I pick up
my phone and text
this day of all days
I feel some tenderness.
'21 years eh? Who'd have thought'
Partly playful, rueful
pays a debt to our
connection. Lifelong.
Later, your reply.
'Sorry,
don't recognise your number'