[Verse 1]
7:14, kitchen light still yellow,
mama's pill box open, Tuesday's slot is empty,
daughter's got a spelling test, backpack by the door,
phone's buzzing twice — it's the clinic, line is busy,
I'm pouring cereal and dialing with my shoulder,
dad calls it "just a checkup," third one this whole month,
got a sticky note stuck to another sticky note,
one says insulin, one says picture day,
I'm forty-one years old and I forgot my own birthday,
caught in the middle of two different kinds of growing.
[Chorus]
I'm the hinge on both doors, hold them open with my shoulder,
one hand on the cradle, one hand on the walker.
Nobody told me love could pull both ways at once —
I'm the middle of the loaf, and both ends want the crust.
[Verse 2]
So I started something simple, three columns on a screen,
one says Dad, one says me, one's got juice-box drawings,
Tuesday nine a.m. sits right next to spelling test at noon,
no more hunting papers, no more sticky-note roulette,
a voice reads it out loud when the appointment's getting close,
"leave by eight-fifteen," it already knows the traffic,
turns me left on Grant before I even think to ask it,
walks me talking, turn by turn, right up to the clinic door,
I still carry both of them, just not guessing which way now,
the thing just whispers next, and I just drive.
[Bridge]
Still some nights I sit out in the car and just breathe for a minute,
still forget whose lunch I packed, whose pressure I took twice,
the columns don't hug my father, don't do homework with my girl,
they just keep the gears from grinding while I'm standing in between.
[Verse 3]
Sister calls on Sundays, says she wishes she lived closer,
sends a check and a prayer emoji, means it, I believe her,
but the pharmacy don't take good intentions for a copay,
and my daughter's learning fractions while my father's losing words,
some nights I lie awake doing math on my own body,
how many years I've got before somebody's filling in my boxes,
wondering if she'll remember how I hummed her back to sleep,
wondering if I'll remember my own name by then,
but the coffee's on at six and the lunches still get packed,
and love don't ask permission, it just hands you the list.
[Chorus]
I'm the hinge on both doors, hold them open with my shoulder,
one hand on the cradle, one hand on the walker.
Nobody told me love could pull both ways at once —
I'm the middle of the loaf, and both ends want the crust.
[Chorus]
I'm the hinge on both doors, hold them open with my shoulder,
one hand on the cradle, one hand on the walker.
Nobody told me love could pull both ways at once —
I'm the middle of the loaf, and both ends want the crust.
[Outro]
Still the hinge, still standing, still holding up the frame,
both doors swinging on my shoulders, I'll carry them the same.