Parents.

When you're a kid,

you go to your friends' houses

to play.

And their parents are there.

Then when you're in high school

and taking the bus home

seems like too much to handle,

you go to your friends' houses

(I'm looking at you, Emma.)

to hang out

and "work on homework."

And their parents are there.

But then you go to college

and then you grow up.

And it's just you

and your friends.

And there's something missing.

Parents.

Of course,

you're not mature enough to realize

until it's too late

how worthwhile it is

to know the one or two people

that made your friends

who they are.

Who took them to the doctor

to get shots.

Who pushed their stroller

up a steep hill

when they were dead tired.

Who sat on the edge of a bed

and told a story

or sang a song

or said a word or two.

Who made cookies

and went to soccer games.

Whose DNA made them.

Whose home made them.

Whose love made them.

Whose life made them.

All I want to do

is meet all my friends' parents

and say,

"I love your child.

And so I think

you must be

pretty great.

You did a good job.

Thanks."