Skip to main content

The Finality of Goodbye- Vandalism Publication


The Finality of Goodbye

Brought to his knees,
He slumped,
Sinking lower onto
The overused,
Overturned table.
Gasping for air,
Sobs snuck past his lips.
6’4 reduced
To a wide eyed boy
Clutching
For a hand
Yearning
For a mom’s attention.

She might’ve seen him,
I can’t say for sure.
For her eyes remained shut
And her mouth solemn.
As he waited
Tears spilled slowly
From a grown man’s eye
And a child’s heart.

His counterpart 
Stands at full mast
Stock-still
Stone-faced.
The days of toothy grins
And mock-arm wrestling
Left behind,
Locked away.
His biggest fan
And first coach
Has left him
Without a plan
Or play at hand.

She’s still cheering,
I’m almost certain.
On some days,
If you listen real well
And stay real quiet,
The sounds of her buoyant
Cheers float up
Echoes meeting our ears.

The nightgown
Rests so softly upon
Her brittle collar bone.
The light lilac
Bringing out the skin tone
I’d envied for ages.
So warm, freckled,
Sun-filled,
So many hot afternoons at the ballpark.

Breaking through the barrier
I cross the threshold,
Covering the floor between
Me and her.
A regular exchange
I’d done so many times
As I left
For the night
For school
For work
A simple see you later.

I stiffly ease into the area .
Mechanically, I look down.
Peace.
My mind at war with my body.
I reach for her.
Lips pressing upon her icy cheek,
Choked, cold,
Foreign.

This is new.

Goodbye, mom.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Kitchen

         The phone would ring, and off would go my mother, around the corner, leaving a trail of flour dust as she waltzed towards the future conversation. Knowing fair well that my mother was a talker, I had it down to a science of how many drive-by’s I could fit in before I’d get caught, as I swept the kitchen for potential hazards on my way to the cookie dough. One, massive, partially melted, white plastic bowl contained the goods, and as a child, it was my duty to get a taste. My mother, being the retired Seattle Police detective that she was, must have had eyes in the back of her head, and probably the sides too, for how quickly she sensed a disturbance. So, between my young, light feet, and her eagle eyes, we had a friendly competition of family cops and robbers anytime cookies were in the making.             The counter laid strewn with various sizes of bowls, measuring cups, teaspoons, tablespoons...
1 comment
Read more

Women in Fire

Last night my dad ran into the house saying to turn on NPR because they were doing a piece on women firefighters. He said this because I am a firefighter, and I am also a woman. However, this was not really a piece on women in fire, this piece was on why it’s hard to be a woman in our field, and I just don’t agree. The NPR piece went into sexual harassment, sexual assault and the difficulties that we as women face in the world of fire. I don’t look at my job as a difficulty. I look at my job as a just what it is: a job. Yes, there are sexist people in our line of work, but to be honest there are sexist people in every line of work. Ours is no different. The fact that I am a woman gets acknowledged at least once a day every day. But, it’s simply fact. Right? I am a woman. And, I am also very tired of everything having a negative light cast onto it. We get out of life what we put into it. If you let a couple of sexists run you out of a job, then honey, you didn’t belong there in the f...
Post a Comment
Read more