Chain of Hands

Why is Christmas when

I miss you the most?

Why do I have to...

Pretend that I like the snow,

When I just want summer back again?

When I just want to live in

A forever sun?

Why is it that...

Those stupid surveys always remind me of you,

Those surveys that always ask:

            Do you miss anyone right now...

Well, yes, but

More than that

            I miss the feeling of

            My last ten summers—

            My coming eleventh and

Woefully,

Painfully,

Unconscionable-ly

            Last

Eleventh summer.

Don’t remind me

Just let me be

Stuck in a forever summer...

Dancing and singing on the tables in front of the cafeteria and

Giving piggyback rides to kids back and forth across the pool:

            Cries of Horsie, Horsie and games of Shark and Minnow.

Asking tiny boys to dance and then...

                                                            Acting hurt when they run away and hide.

Holding hands and walking downhill for no other reason than

            The fact that that hand will one day not be there.

Chestnuts roasting when they should be marshmallows roasting on an open fire...

Christmas makes me miss you

The most,

But—at least when I miss you

I can smile and

Know that

            I will see you

Bright and early in June and

We will walk downhill

Holding a chain of

Fifteen pairs of hands.