I sat on the porch, waiting, waiting.
Time for soccer practice, Dad.
Time to pick me up. You're late, Dad.
But the car didn't come,
Even ten minutes after.
RING! RING!
I picked up the phone.
Sobs on the other end made my ears hurt
"He's not coming, the doctor confirmed it."
Heart . . . beating . . . .
Monitor . . . blinking . . . .
Lines . . . descending . . . .
Breath . . . gone.
I dropped the phone.
No.
Walking through the hallways now
Photos on the walls
A few clippings of writings,
He wrote them so well.
I glance up at the one that hurts the most
The one of all of us,
Sunny skies
Green grass
Shining smiles.
Isn't it funny, how when someone is gone,
The happiest memories hurt a thousand times more
Than those filled with sobs.
I drag myself into that picture.
I remember how we laughed as we played
He shot the goals, I never was very good
Oh, how Father would sing
The flowers, they opened
The birds, they chirped
The heads, how they turned.
I think about having fun in the pool.
Splish, splash.
Splish, splash.
But it's that cold October now.
The pool water is rain.
I sit on the steps;
My uniform is too tight
It's been so long.
But no car pulls up, no smile shines.
I stare into the darkness, thinking;
"You're late, Dad. Eight years too late."
Gender:
Points: 1192
Reviews: 7