We left Galveston for the red dirt
I ached leaving the ocean
Deep wounds in my body that never close
They bleed fresh, salty, sad.
Yet something was healing
Our blended family for the first time
Together
All chipped porcelain in our own ways
All not the shapes we were expected to be
Yet, together
Then
A man sideswiped our bubble
I revved to 90
Knowing we had to get his license plate
Understanding he was running from his mistake
Finally, he pulled over and my someday wife,
Said No.
What he did to us was not okay.
I turned to ask our children
If they were okay
Assuming they’ve ever known “okay”
Assuming I was okay enough for them to say they were not.
Slowly, I recognized, my goal will never be to protect my wife or children
Because, I know I never can
But to be a person they can say when they are not okay
And for each of them to know,
I will defend our bubble.
