Wednesday, December 30, 2015

Tears on my Pillows

I can't tell you how much they fought over letting their aunt stay in their room. If she was granted a stay there, she would leave her scent. Her very distinctive scent.

And so now, when she has departed again, I go into the room she stayed to breathe her in.

It's her.

And it's her in all the glory I remember her. And the kids try to breathe that scent in.

But I close the room off, with me securely inside, so I can breathe the scent that is my sister. And I can breathe deeply in the folds of the only-just-stripped-bed.

And I can feel her, here, and wallow in self-pity because now she's making her way back home to her own home.

And I will wait here for her return.

Tear-stained pillows await her.

I miss her.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You make me cry. I love you to infinity and beyond, Sis. Beyond and beyond. I will see you shortly! Socks, socks, socks!

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