POETRY FRIDAY

Today, my oldest son is leaving home, 

to attend junior college in Phoenix, 

900 miles away from Denver.  

I will drive halfway, 

or maybe a little farther, in my car, 

and then I will turn around, 

and he and his roommate will drive on.

And while I am thrilled for him, 

I am so, so sad.

I am sad for me

because I will miss that guy--

the sticky floor by the refrigerator 

when he slurped juice from the carton,

the "oops" holes in walls,

that crooked, gap-toothed smile,
the "uh-huh" when I ask
"Do you know how much
your mama loves you?"

More, though, I am sad 

for my younger son.

I adopted my boys from foster care 

when they were seven and nine.

For years, all they had was each other.

And they have been 

best friends,

companions

confidantes.

I cannot imagine one of them 

without the other. 

My younger son 

is without words

he has been 

in his bedroom

with the door shut

since six o'clock last night

refuses to ride along 

even though I would love 

the companionship

will probably not 

say goodbye
to his brother.

And yes, I know growing up 

and moving on is a natural part of life, 

and I know we will get through it, 

but today

I am so, so sad.

"To a Daughter Leaving Home"

by Linda Pastan

… I
sprinted to catch up,
while you grew
smaller, more breakable
with distance,
pumping, pumping
for your life, screaming
with laughter,
the hair flapping
behind you like a
handkerchief waving
goodbye.

Read the rest of the poem here.

Poetry Friday is at Paper Tigers.