Waiting for the when

Sunday morning

It’s not looking good

Daddy’s getting worse, they don’t know what’s wrong…

I have to hop a plane

flying out in the morning,

kids crying and me… crying for the lack of them, anxious for the lack of him.

Someone near me farting on the plane, fourteen hour flight.

Good lord really?

Really bad coffee, brown water, I must have landed in the grand ol US of A

Welcome back

Another two flights

I see the spot at the airport where he usually stands… there’s nobody there.

Empty spaces speak loudly,

Heart monitors and bipat machines speak loudest of all…

almost.

Smiles and laughter, I love you scribble with shaky hand.

And now we wait… we sit and we wait

and breathe until we don’t.

 

2 thoughts on “Waiting for the when

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