An Apology

At twelve I loathed
The grunts and groans
My father would emit
While working on projects
Around our house

I rolled my eyes
In an attempt to run away
Mentally, at least
Doing my best to not
Sigh too loud

I wondered how it seemed to be
So difficult for him to complete
The simplest of tasks
Without his guttural “rnnnngh”
To annoy me

The sweat dropped down
His shiny balding head
Under his slick thin black hair
And he’d send me off to get
Him a glass of grape kool-aid

But now at 49
I am older than he was
And I listen to my own creaks
My own moans and groans
And I think that I owe him

​An apology.