School of Hard Knocks(?)

Life is a kind, if strict, teacher. She looks a lot like my mom, but reminds me of my dad.

With smack after smack on the wrist, and one bad accident that took years to scar, she's taught me pain is but temporary.

And in saying farewell to my classmates as they left her school, one after another she's taught me that some absences can only be filled by the people who made them.

I watched my dad cry as he buried his brother, when he suddenly left.

And I've stared at the white ceiling, lights still on, doing nothing, feeling nothing, only waiting for it to be time to sleep again.

But I've held my friends' hands as we skipped to class.

And I've sung silly songs with my brother when we did our chores.

So though some absences from life are empty, I can't say mine isn't full.