The kind you’re born with, the kind you choose, the kind that teach Catholic school
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When you were a baby, learning to fly,
you couldn’t control your lightness.
We never had a moment’s peace.
We kept the windows closed all summer.
But you were happy,
and everyone said,
he’ll forget how
by the time he’s old enough to walk.
And they were right.
By the time you were old enough to walk
it was all a story we told:
When you were a baby
and learning to fly,
you flew back and forth
between your mother and I.