Poem
Belated Visit
Loves Makes Memories
The Yakima temperature dipped below zero.
I wore a thick, dark coat zipped to my chin.
I shivered, waiting for Dad in the driveway.
My heart raced with excitement at the thought
of spending time with him. He said he’d come.
Tufts of dead grass poked through,
accumulating white.
Thick layers of snow accumulated
on roofs, cars, and walkways.
I hung a duffle bag over my shoulder.
Mom packed a weekend’s worth of clothes
for Dad’s house.
I tightened the strap around my small frame.
My dad was only a man in a picture.
I lifted the weathered photo.
White flakes plopped on his face.
I dried the image and
returned the picture to my breast pocket.
I wiggled my fingers in my gloves.
I munched on M&M’s, calming my nerves.
Trucks trailed the street with four-wheel drive,
and cars fishtailed, spinning chained tires.
The vehicle’s taillights flashed red
as they pumped their brakes down the street.
But Dad wasn’t among them.
The pit of my stomach sank.
A shadow moved through the living room window.
Mom talked animatedly on the phone.
I didn’t have to hear Mom to know
what she was saying
was nothing I should eavesdrop on.
Mom clenched her jaw and let loose
the venom she’d brushed off her shoulder.
I twisted back to the street.
My feet were blocks of ice,
and my nose glowed.
Dad wasn’t coming.
I released the tension
in my chest that faded
like a vapor attached
to a memory of dreaming
come this time every winter.
I returned to thaw inside.
I asked Mom about Dad.
She said there wasn’t
much to say.
Dad had his own life
with his own wife
and a son of their own.
But I hoped to meet a brother.
I was a second-hand leftover.
No one wanted me.
But God had my back.
I don’t know why.
I wasn’t a good person.
But a year later,
God brought Mom a man
who loved her for her.
Mom couldn’t deny that her face
lit up around her new man.
They dated for two years and married.
Mark even allowed me to call him Dad;
his daughter called me her brother.
Ten years later, Dad left a voicemail
to me on his deathbed.
I wanted to leave the call unreturned.
But God would have me forgive him.
I entered his unevenly lit hospital room.
His olive complexion and thick,
dark hair matched mine.
Dad went on about how his dad
did to him what he did to me.
He didn’t want to lose his family.
He lied to Mom about being in my life.
He lied to his own family.
But most of all, Dad told me,
he lied to himself.
I introduced him to Maggie, his granddaughter.
He sobbed as he held the three-year-old.
He said he didn’t deserve to see her.
I agreed.
Shortly after, I watched Dad take
his last breath, which was like a vapor
attached to a memory.
It carried the wind beneath my feet
back to the day I waited with my duffle bag.
I blinked back tears, making them fall faster.
I frowned before the corner of my mouth lifted.
I knew his resting place in heaven was worth the pain.
I embraced Maggie.
Maggie wanted candy.
I explained that we needed to pray.
She closed her eyes and folded her hands,
and demanded M&M’s after.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
(© 2024 AC)
✍ — Published by Dr. Gabriella Korosi, at Dancing Elephants Press. Click here for submission guidelines.
