Sunday, December 26, 2010
Doesn't matter how many tries,
watching her pack things away,
it's moving day, her heart is in
every box waiting for the truck
My hope marks all of them
but handle with care
the empty room left neat,
the quiet, bittersweet
she holds her disposition under an elbow
2 pencils do their job,
one holds her hair, one behind her ear
a pen, betwixt teeth
she is reading and thinking
and filing and remembering
and testing and trying and
listening and loving and living
"See you next month for dinner Mom!"
and I run out of the house in stocking feet with her ... pen
I see her 3 year old face, can almost hear....
"Don't forget this, do you have everything?"
"Yes, yes Mom, it's fine."
We stand there, loose piece of hair,
a habit, I tuck it behind her ear,
she leans in and hugs me goodbye
I do not cry,