Each morning you dress carefully
Walk out the door
And I’m left with rote phrases,
‘Goodbye Honey’
and
‘Love you.’

I dress, daughter dresses
I comb her hair, tie her bows
Listen to her say,
“Jessie is so mean.”
As I comfort her, I wonder
If you even know
Who Jessie is.

On the way to school we chat
And she says,
“Dad never talks to me
If he drives me somewhere.”
And I feel suffocating emptiness
on your behalf.

Back home
Laundry grumps in a pile
Beds to make
Tables to dust
Floors to sweep
Meals to plan.

Tackling the day’s tasks
I go over the week ahead
Are you home tomorrow night,
Or can we have leftovers?
I smile at the thought of
Daughter and me, curled up together
Watching a movie,
Happy with leftovers.

You arrive home late
Your eyes are distant
Your thoughts are not here
A cursory kiss hello
But not a smile or a hug
Not a caress.

Bring you a beer
Bring your dinner
Take your shoes
Take your socks
Take your cares
Pour them over me
I might rate a condescending smile and a
“What did you do today?”

Wearily I climb into bed
Aching in body and heart
And then you roll over
Ready for the ritual of marriage
Criticize me because there’s
Not as much enthusiasm
As twenty years ago

In spite of it all
There is warmth
There is love
There is
familiarity
I wonder, and I worry
What will it be
When baby is
Grown?

 

Sister

Guest Author &

damn good Artist!