He Is Thirty-Two and I Still Count the Stairs

Lyrics

[Intro]
He turned thirty-two last March, Elias.
Born in the snow of '91, Providence Hospital.
His house now, on Elm Street, with the blue door.
But I still count.

[Verse 1]
The stairs in his childhood room numbered seventeen.
Creaky oak, each one a potential traitor.
I'd lie awake, ears tuned to the rhythm:
One, two, three—pause—four.
He'd sneak down for water at midnight,
and I'd count them back up, silent sentinel.
Now his own stairs, concrete and modern,
in that split-level he bought in '18.
I imagine them: fourteen, maybe fifteen.
Does he take them two at a time still?

[Chorus]
Thirty-two and I count the stairs,
even the ones I've never seen.
Love doesn't retire, doesn't clock out.
It paces the halls of what if,
whispers the numbers like a prayer.
Elias, your roof, your rules,
but my heart's still on duty.

[Verse 2]
Remember the fall in '99? Eight years old,
tripped on step nine, bloody knee, tears.
I carried you up, all forty pounds,
counted each one to calm us both.
Now you carry your own, a mortgage, a job at the firm.
But when the phone rings at odd hours,
I count the seconds till you answer,
imagine stairs in the dark, unseen hazards.
Your wife laughs, says I'm incorrigible.
She's right, but so is the counting.

[Bridge]
One day you'll count for your own,
Elias. The cycle's unsparing,
warm in its worry, dry as old bones.
A quiet joke: parenthood's the longest stairwell,
no landing in sight.

[Chorus]
Thirty-two and I count the stairs,
even the ones I've never seen.
Love doesn't retire, doesn't clock out.
It paces the halls of what if,
whispers the numbers like a prayer.
Elias, your roof, your rules,
but my heart's still on duty.

[Outro]
Seventeen stairs then, fourteen now.
I count them all, every night.
Goodnight, son.