"I'll be there, soon," he says. "I promise," he whispers.
He delivers. A knock, a door opens, and there he stands. His face scorched by his mother's drinking during pregnancy. Where his right eye would be, a few black head has gathered on stretched skin. His hair is parted on the side; every strand in place. His beard shaved and his nose hair trimmed. His right ear, smaller than his left ear, has blotches of what looks like melted skin that has cooled, has not left the side of his face. His smile's brighter than ever, whiter than ever, lovelier than ever, but nothing compared to mine.
It's been 5 days, 2 hours, 7 minutes, and 3 seconds, no wait, five seconds since I last saw him, since I last hugged him, since I last waved goodbye to him, since I last smiled with him.
He swings his head at my neck and once it touches, he turns his head from side to side heavily, slowly, caressing me with his chin, his cheeks, his ears. Though his arms are absent to embrace me, what he does with his head joined with the tears dragged from his eye to the length of my neck lets me know - he feels what I feel.
He is back and in-front of me, touching me, smiling with me, and soon, sleeping with me. He is back.
No comments:
Post a Comment