image by Gabriella @dVerse Poets
“There ain’t no way you can hold onto someone that wants
to go--so just love what you got while you got it.”
I paused, stopping my battered pick up. The Chev V-8 idled
roughly, the glass packs popped and rumbled. The gray
overcast sky looked ominous--it was probably going to rain.
There it was, the crumbling stone bridge over Owl Creek, here
at the head of Oak Lane. Once I cross it, as I had a thousand
times, there will be no turning back, no return trip to the home
I built with my own hands, to my wife of twelve years, to my
three sons who were my joy--all of which who stood on our
front porch as I pushed past them carrying a battered leather
suitcase & a moldy duffel bag.
My Betty was stone-faced, her cheeks still wet with tears. Luke
& Carl were little men, standing silently, staring at the boards
beneath them--but Buddy was only five. He reached out to me
as his mother held his tiny shoulders, blubbering, “Daddy, don’t
go, please, we still love you.”
I turned the red truck back toward the house, as my own tears
clouded my eyes.
If a man lets his
pride and anger overrulehis heart, all is lost.
Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub