Separation

image by Gabriella @dVerse Poets

Separation

“There ain’t no way you can hold onto someone that wants

to go--so just love what you got while you got it.”

--Kate DiCamillo.

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 overrule

his heart, all is lost.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub