by: Vicki Sue Parker
January 28, 1999:
It is time to go.
My wedding ring swirls around its new home,
Our storage boxes standing half-empty,
Even our house was not yet used to our footsteps.
Still, it is time to go.
I danced through my last day,
As I should have, I suppose:
Having lunch with a friend,
Giggling as I talked about an old teacher,
Rushing back home to unpack,
Decorating our new marriage,
I was a bride un-wrapping our future;
My happiness already stacked up high
Around me.
And then it came:
The moment where I hear
The sound of my husband’s truck,
Its engine grinding down the end of its day.
I hurry to the window,
Pulling apart two slates of our wooden blinds,
Looking down,
I see his truck pulling up to the curb.
Is that the way it works?
I took one last glance
At my old life,
Without even so much as a pause.
Why did I not slow down?
What I needed to tell my husband
could have waited.
Oh, the things you think about later.
No, I hardly took the time
To gather a hastened breath:
Snapping the blinds back into place,
Pivoting around,
I ran down the stairs,
Out the front door,
Onto the street:
I Race towards
the end of my lif.
What a cruel trick:
To be forced to welcome
My fatal wound,
Falling fast into my collapse,
I drown.
January 28, 1999.
It is time to go.
Date unknown:
It is Time to wake up.
The house still half-done,
Our future yet to be un-wrapped,
My husband twists his wedding ring.
Still, it time to wake up.
I drag through my days,
Silence surrounding me,
My thoughts lay sleeping,
I dream of nothing.
And then it came:
The moment he hears
The sound of my new life:
Sluggish and leery,
Slowly, it starts.
My husband has so much to hope for:
He wants to look,
But is too scared.
He takes the time to pause,
To hesitate;
Quietly, he lurks at the edge of my life.
Our vows still fresh,
Untying the smooth ribbon binding our future,
I walk into my beginning:
Welcoming my second chance,
I tend to my injury,
And breathe in new air.
Date unknown:
It is time to wake up.