I learned the names, I learned the stories, Asked how school and work had been, Asked about your parents, where you came from, Listened when the memories began. I knew the towns and family stories, The memories that you shared just because. I spent seventeen years getting to know you— Didn't you ever wonder who I was? You talked about the years in Malad, All the things that came before. I'd listen from across the table, Trying to become something more. But when I'd add a story of my own, The room would somehow lose its sound. So little by little I learned silence— How to be there, but not be found. You didn't know me— But now I understand why. It wasn't that I hid my heart Or kept my world inside. I kept turning toward your stories, Hoping you'd turn toward mine. Maybe I wasn't hard to know. Maybe you never even tried. A Facebook thread that never rested, Pictures, dinners, daily news. Everybody had a place there, Everybody had a voice to use. Then sometimes I would add a sentence, And suddenly the words would end. Days later, conversation started Like I'd never entered in. Even underneath our own roof, I'd walk over, join you there. Soon the circle started shifting, Moving somewhere else to share. I noticed—but I told myself There surely was another side. I was working so hard to belong, I wouldn't name what hurt inside. I showed up for your family's moments, For the joy and sorrow too. I learned the faces, shared the heartaches, Simply because they mattered to you. Even those who came through Debbie, I made room for every tie. But you never came for mine— I kept stepping toward your side. You rarely asked about my callings, Or the work that filled my days— Helping families grow together, Finding ways to make them strong. Funny, that was all I wanted For the family we became: To take two histories, two beginnings, And somehow make room for every name. Then the day I lost my mother, There were no words to help me through. No "How are you?" No "Tell me about her." No "What can we do for you?" And looking back, that silence tells me What I couldn't then quite see. You didn't have to know my mother— But you could have cared about me. You didn't know me— But now I understand why. It wasn't that I hid my heart Or kept my world inside. I kept turning toward your stories, Hoping you'd reach toward my side. Maybe I wasn't hard to know. Maybe you never even tried. I thought if I loved you long enough, Someday you'd turn toward me. I thought becoming part of your world Meant you'd want to know mine too. So I asked more questions, planned more things, Made room and gave and tried— Never realizing all those years I was reaching from one side. Was I blind, or just determined To believe we'd get there yet? Was I so intent on being "Bonus" I ignored what I didn't want to accept? I wanted to be what you needed, Wanted all of us inside. Maybe that dream kept me hoping Long after hope was justified. You didn't know me. And yes, that broke my heart. I saw the distance all along, I knew we stood apart. But seventeen years I kept believing Someday you'd open up your heart. But knowing someone takes a question, Some curiosity inside. A willingness to cross the distance, To see the world I opened wide. You could have known me. You just never even tried.
