At Night I Hear Cars

At night
I hear cars.

I wonder who
has come home
and realize
no one else is coming.
I’m here alone.

It’s not sad
or even lonely,
just an odd awareness
that you’ve grown up
and moved on to where
your life should take you.

The house is
now more quiet
and I luxuriate
in its peace.

Like the aftermath
of a great party,
there’s stuff to
relive and cherish,
much left to tend to,
even more still
to clean up.

For all the planning,
the last minute
scrambling, we made
it through just fine.

At night
I hear cars
and gently close
the front door,
turn the lights out,
go to bed.

I’m already home.