We sat in the pew
furthest back in the church.
My father would hum all the hymns
and I’d lean closer to him and hum along,
then lean toward my mother
and sing with her the words—
I swayed between them like a metronome,
humming, then singing, then
humming, then singing.
How giddy I was, grateful to be the girl
between them. I did not yet know how
difficult it was to be a parent.
I only knew how good it felt
to be loved, how safe I felt between them,
how delighted I was to find in myself
some part of each of them,
so delighted that even now,
over forty years later
and a thousand miles away,
I remember that night
and begin to sway.