I'm pulling wings off insects. I'm peeling back my sunburnt skin. I'll wait outside your bedroom; I hope they let me in. Filling your prescriptions, the orange bottles stare me down. They're standing at attention—an army on your windowsill. We're all waiting for good news; hoping you can come home soon. We're all waiting for good news. I've been acting like I'm strong, but the truth is, I've been losing ground to a hospital too crowded and a summer winding down. I hadn't seen a heart break until now. I hadn't felt a heartbreak until now. I grew up on your back porch. I watched the storms light up the clouds. They hung like paper lanterns to guide the way back towards your house. I've been putting off long flights hoping that you'll be alright. I'll be there in the meantime. If I'm in an airport and you're in a hospital bed, what kind of man does that make me? ------ Follow The Wonder Years on social media!