parts

the visitor

she stepped out into the November evening
the chill air slicing at her cheeks
the pain didn't register with her
for she was lost in some other thought

the door closed behind her, with a click
it made her hesitate
the sound once being all too familiar, now registered almost nostalgic
she shook her head
didn't want that
didn't want silly, frivolous notions about life running away

she had worked at the home for a long time
her whole life, it seemed
half of it, if she was being realistic
but that made it seem as if she was indentured, or somehow obligated
trapped
no, rather this is where her life happened
or, at least, everything that mattered to her

the home was where she cared for the lost, and the dying
yet, this is where her life blossomed
where love caught me
where bonds were made
these people that surround me I watched grow
in generations and in character
some in size (she almost giggled)
we had babies and weddings
holidays and loss
and through it all they held my hand
and we made love out of sorrow and pain

and now the door had shut
the click issuing it's circumstance

she turned to look
she tried to stop herself
she didn't want balmy eyed sentimentality
she didn't want fond farewells
she was too angry for that

she wanted her mother

she had her close to her, in the home, these past few years
she needed the help, having slipped into her winter years

the stabbing chill now registered

the home was her place of work
was...
the owner bowed to the bureaucrats
selling to a fat wallet
my home
my life
mother's home
but now, just the home where mother is

she covered her cold cheeks with a muffler
all my life you took care of me, mother
even when you came here for my help
it was your need for me
that made me love you more
what i learned from you
everything
i was able to give back

the home, her work, was now her past
where her friends were
where her mother is
i won't get sentimental
it does no good
life is still in front of me
and memories only make me strong
i still have many tomorrows

but, what about the everydays
she thought

no more coffee and gossip every morning
no more songs or dominoes every afternoon
no more quiet reflection every evening
no more everyday with mother

the click of the door echoed in her mind
she glanced up to see the door still shut
her mother sits alone inside

until the next visiting hours