Counting Exits

The day is bright.

Children laugh.

The smell of charcoal drifts across the yard.

I smile because they expect me to.

The first report echoes somewhere beyond the trees.

Everyone sees the laughter.

No one sees the flinch.

I clap when everyone else claps.

I hug my grandchildren.

Telling myself it's only fireworks.

Wondering

if this year

I can make it to midnight.

Can I make the trembling stop?

The country is celebrating.

My family is excited.

As they should be.

All are grateful.

I am too.

Everyone is watching the same sky.

I'm counting exits.