The Youngest

I’m told that these last twenty-six years don’t count
and I’ll always be five in the eyes of my family;
I’ve found the fountain of youth;
It’s sponsored by Polaroid.

So I’ll always be some cute little curly-haired teddy bear
that cried when my three kissy-faced sisters tickled me.
And I’ll always be that kid in the red hoody, posed with a football
by the Christmas tree, clutched like a small trophy in the arms of my proud brother.

It’ll always be my first day of kindergarten,
when I was the last to leave for the day
because those same three kissy-faced sisters waited until after General Hospital
to come and get me.

And I’ll always be the one who got away with everything,
even though it was usually my fault,
just by showing a teary-eyed face (often followed by a behind-the-back grin) to mom
because I was the youngest.

So, the degrees and the career
and the marriage and the mortgage don’t matter-
I’ll always be five to them. But hey,
at least I’m not the oldest.
-2007