When I was young I measured myself
By the weight of approval.
Every success carried home. 
"Not bad," and silence.
"You could do more."

I thought you knew so little then.
I wore certainty like armour,
Convinced that I had all the answers,
Experience simply opinions.
And the years passed quietly.

One evening standing as you had stood.
Laughing at the same foolish things.
Familiar phrases I'd sworn I'd never say.
Even making the same small groans
As I had risen from my comfort.

And somewhere along the way
Those ignored lessons become
The advice I gave.
A voice so quietly inherited
I mistook it for my own.

And then I heard myself.
And I understood
My son's certain silence.
You had been teaching me
Long after I'd stopped listening.