The Wake

“Where are you going?”

I ask.

“I don’t know.”

She replies. “Nowhere, I guess.”

She shakes her head

and her dark curls bounce playfully.

She looks up at me.

There are words in her eyes;

heavy ones.

They speak volumes to me

that her lips never could.

She looks away, her gaze taking in

the westward mountains,

clouds high in the sky.

The Sun,

just starting to sink below them,

lights her face radiantly

and the weight in her eyes

becomes a kind of beatific resolve.

“I think I’ll head to B.C.”

She says after a moment.

I can hear in her voice,

that these are words

She has tried speaking before.

“Maybe in the spring.

Maybe after the Holidays,

once I get everything settled here.

Dad’s estate is a mess

and it might take a while.”

Turning from the porch rail,

she leans back against a post

and lets out a long sigh.

I know all this has been hard.

She didn’t want to come back here,

back to the place

she spent her whole life

trying to get away from.

Back to the small town,

back to the farm,

back to her family,

back to me.

She lowers her chin

and looks me square in the eye.

“You want to go get a drink?”

she asks.

“Yes. I do indeed.” I reply.

We both hate funerals,

but we both love whiskey.

We hop in my truck

and head into town.


DR – 2019


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