Arrival and Departure (January 2, 2020)

Arrival and Departure

Of course,

On the other end of arrival

Is always departure.

What a time it was.

What a full, rich length of time

It really was.

When it was all over,

My husband picked me up

At the airport in Cincinnati

And drove me home.

On the way home,

We searched for a Starbucks--

Something comforting

For me to hold in my hand.

In the car,

I smiled.

I laughed.

I told the stories--

Jumbled and tumbling out,

In that way I always tell stories.

I cried.

I held my Starbucks.

I tried to hold onto the feeling

Of being there.

When we got home,

I went all the way through the house

From the back door to the front door

And out onto the porch.

I couldn't be inside.

I sat on the cool concrete front porch

Breathing the air,

And feeling the loss--

A bullet of ache in my chest,

And feeling the treasure--

A nugget of gold in my chest,

And feeling the connection,

And feeling the distance.

And I dialed up a video chat

Because I wanted to be there.

And for just another moment

I was there,

Knowing the space into which I was peering,

And loving their faces

And the so recently familiar cadence of their voices.

I am afraid to roll myself up,

Tucking in my knees and elbows

And heart and soul.

Before, I was neatly vacuum-packed.

After, I don't fit back

Into the packaging I came in.

Now I am here,

But I am always also there.

This is the price of going

And the cost of coming home.

This is the wealth and the weight

Of arrival and departure.

ErinRMS 1/2/2020