sitting with a friend of a friend
desperate to yank at the seams of conversation
when it is quiet, we pretend to sip
we pull our eyes to the images of commentators on the screen
look out the window
think of something else to say so we can feel comfortable
my resume with people is malnourished
i am people, and i still don't understand them
the friend we share returns to the table
we invite her back
the ashes of discomfort are scattered
it is put to rest
a regulated heartbeat returns

I'd never watched a human grow before
I held you before you developed your sea legs
as you saw the Blue Ridge Mountains
and I told you we'd revisit when you learned to walk
I will never forget the first day you said my name
Then one day you spoke a full sentence
You could run
You learned to count and sing
You no longer were that tiny cloud anymore
I feared you'd outgrow the little things
Until one night recently
You crawled into my lap
and slumbered so sweetly
and I realized you were not growing too quickly
You still were such a little boy
for a little while longer

To lie in bed together
to feel the slight tremors in the sheets on my side
that are coming from your laughter
I don't think I could love anything else
I don't think anything else matters

We have experienced this same departure five times over.
It should be routine, but my mind bends and aches each time.
I remember each hour, my clothing I wore.
I remember where rough patches were on your hands
as I held them to tell you goodbye.
I remember it well.
I remember exactly the shade of blue
that reflected in your eyes as you told me goodbye.
I sleep that night, each time when you depart,
feeling like something is missing.
You become a ghost limb.
It hits me again, even after five times.
And I miss you already.

I hear an orchestra when you laugh
and I enjoy admiring you most
when you are paying no mind.
You are intensely reading what is in your hand.
Your brow is pushed down to a ceiling
over your eyes.
This is when I find you most beautiful.
As a little girl I always had this vision of what love was.
I was horribly, horribly wrong.

I would never trade this adventure for anything.

I have dipped my feet in the Atlantic
In the Pacific
I have climbed every mountain
That time would allow
I have seen Berlin Wall remains
Walked through London markets
Danced with my kind
In Haight-Ashbury
Navigated New York Penn Station
In high heels
Felt closer to freedom in Oregon
Felt closer to God in Alaska
Felt closer to myself in Colorado
Felt closer to him in Honduras
Felt loneliness in New Jersey...

...And it took me months to realize
The earth is so spectacular
I am grateful, humbled
Yet no place is there I'd rather be
Than home

I left the light on the porch
July to July.
Sitting on the front step waiting
for someone.
Green to gold to white.
I will continue to wait.
To run the tips of my fingers
through sand flecked hair.
I will continue.