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“Mom, how high do planes fly?”
40,000 feet in the sky,
I don’t know if it’s worse in the cabin
-or is it the pressure that I can’t say goodbye.

After doing it a handful of times
I thought I would get used to this,

left behind my previous times,
leaving for a future I don’t know exists.

Men carrying boxes off my doorstep,
I’ll miss my friends in the past,
this isn’t the first time i’ve done this,
and it won’t be my last.

Used to have parents and sister with me
with my dogs there for the worst days,
now my sister and mom are separate from me
and my dogs passed away.

College under a year away, visitin’ knock on my door yet,
Mom strolls hesitantly into my room and sits me on my bedspread,
she tells me it’s that time again, her job had another mis-step,
tellin’ me Georgia is last on the list for this journey’s true end.

Though I know better, for I am no fool, she’ll surely do it again,
move back to Ohio just to retire when my sis goes into college,
yet I can hold no resent even if we’re up and out of state again,
cause this cycle is bound to repeat until it does hit an end.

Go from OH to MC to AZ to CA
to NH to OH to NJ to GA
back to OH to NC to NY to PA,
visit AZ and CA, not live there, but give thanks.

I’ve gone through this nation-wide journey through most states,
from drug-towns and cities to towns then away,
Mentally more than physically this journey i’ll take,
And move on my own ’til my hair turns gray.

Though I am not one to cry,
I’m not one to bat an eye,
I’m instead the one to soar high,
The height that planes fly.

— The End —