It began with a need for a garment bag
the kind from the cleaners
with its pre-slit hole for the hanger
— dry cleaners size —
with child safety warning included.
I doubted I had one
but went into my closet
searching for
a stray
lingering
on the closet rod.
I notice a dress,
the one I wore
to our granddaughter’s wedding,
— the maroon dress
that went to the cleaners shortly after
— hanging in the closet–
with no occasion to call it forth
since then.
I am surprised to find you there.
Behind my dress
–in the same
clear
garment
bag–
there
you
are.
Memories flow.
It’s not just
when I am consciously
missing
you
that I have
a keen awareness
of you-being-missing.
Sometimes
it is like this.
You surprise me
through
“footprints”
you’ve
left
behind.
I feel your presence
in
memory.
Milliseconds
later,
realization
dawns.
Another holiday season
without
you.
On the doorstep
of our second Thanksgiving
apart
there you are.
clean and starched.
Precious
aroma
of
you
missing.
A
heart
full
of
memories
prove once again . . .
how
I
miss
you,
my love.
Oh
how
I
miss
you . . .
