today we must earn our lives

i’m not a kid anymore. 
here’s a home that i pay for,
one whose furniture i collected,
and whose dust i wipe,
whose windows i open
and must lock at night. 
sometimes i don’t even know how This happened

the food i cook
is my own
and yes it sustains me
but the recipe’s not as good
i’ve never been as full as before -
when grandma made delicate dumplings,
steaming in the middle

i never hear the sound of keys
or feel the garage opening, rumbling beneath my feet
“mom’s home” - 
two words i never say anymore 

the mail on the counter 
it’s actually mine and i can’t stand it
another credit card offer, car registration, ballots,
an ad i never signed up for.
i never thought id miss 
those pale yellow report cards 
i used to earn silly grades and a pizza party.
today we must earn our lives