Picking Them Up at the Hospital
My daughter, son-in-law struggle
to strap
their newborn into
the car seat pulling
the seat belt
across, under and
back, tying
a knot, trying again. My daughter
chastises her attentive husband
who can’t
recall the video instruction.
Uncertainties of
parenthood. Of getting it right.
Home, three miles off.
The old engine idles, chugs impatience.
I’m watching through the rear-view mirror
about to suggest something,
anything, but
what do I know about this new generation
of car-seats that flip into rolling-strollers,
transform to mini-rockers with built-in
mobiles and music boxes.
The baby
stirs
up from all
her seven pounds
cries her own siren.
The air is full of sirens.
Then a pause. I look back, our eyes meet.
Are we the only ones
who hear them? My daughter
promising to never criticize, labors a cry
of apology.
The new father pats comfort
to one, the other, confounded by this new
double-duty.
It’s all getting louder and I say nothing
in my part behind the wheel, trying to
practice what the books call objectivity.
I know the world
won’t end
with a whimper
or a bang.
The hospital guard’s fast-waving hands
continue to argue with the traffic–
Keep going, folks.
Keep it going!
Owen Lewis is the author of three collections of poetry. His latest book, Field Light, was a Distinguished Favorite, 2020 NYC BigBook Award and a 2021 “Must Read”, Massachusetts Book Awards. He was also the winner of the 2016 Hippocrates Award for Poetry and Medicine.