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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Coming home and coming face to face with a person you expected to foget you

Submitted: November 25, 2007

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 25, 2007



I was tired, jet lagged, wanted to go home.
It had been nice to go back
All the familiar people, the places
The friends
But it was time.
I heaved my oversized suitcase to the back of the car
And pulled on the handle to open the door
It slid past my face and revealed him
So still. So calm. So beautiful.
His head turned as he heard the door open
Pivoted on his shoulders; tense and fragile
I stopped to throw him a look
And watched his eyes light up.
Pleasure and excitement upon his face
That kind glow of a brother, the golden cheeks
And a smile, so precocious and real
He remembered me.
How old was he? One? Maybe two?
I hadn’t expected him to remember.
I thought he’d forget.
But he didn’t.

I’ve never been happier

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