Stop Wondering

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I once wondered why Mom and Dad left me that day
as I groped all over the kindergarten classroom for them
while I wiped my tears with the back of my hands.

I once wondered why Mom kept my sister and me inside
making us do multiplication and division problems
when right out the window my friends were playing tag-you’re-it.

I once wondered why Dad made such a big fuss
over a slight scratch on my knees
after I came home bleeding when I fell off my bike.

I once wondered why Mom always wore socks
decorated with holes on the bottom
and clothes that already lost their color.

I once wondered why Dad never gave up
when he started out with nothing but
a phone and a basement of a rented home.

I once wondered why Mom smelled like
the sharp mintyness of those hot packs for sore muscles
the ones you buy from Shop-Rite or Han-A-Reum.

I wonder now if I will be able to
remember the cool kisses Mom plants on my cheek
or the warm hugs Dad gives me when he comes back from work.

But now the day has come
for me to stop wondering
and to start knowing.

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