Memory

You stare down like

You could reach and touch my face—

Smooth and soft

And bright like it          Used to be.

You stare down and I

Catch a tear in your eye—

It soaks through to me and I feel

The thin drop of moisture,

Turning the plain wood

In which I rest to a marble memorial—

A marble honorary statue that tourists photograph and brag about, showing off their memories as if they were badges of honor...

But I know you can’t touch me

No matter how much you stretch your arms out,

No matter how much you miss me,

No matter how much you love—

I know you can’t

Reach me...

But don’t worry,

I’m stored up, saved up, stocked up—

Priceless,

Reachable in your memory.

If only I could tell you that,

When you miss me the most,

I’m there in that memory of us putting up the Christmas tree the first year after you were born.

I’m there in that memory of me pushing you along on your training wheels, cheering and laughing at the scraping sound those training wheels made on the concrete and that look on your face:

I’m in that look on your face.

I’m in that memory of making cookies for you to bring to a school party: we burnt the cookies a bit, but that was

Alright—

I promise you it will be alright.

I’m in that memory of your graduation,

In the one of us packing up all your things and driving you onto adulthood,

I’m in that memory of us crying together at the foot of the stairs—

I left the month after, but it was

All worth it—

Worth it all

Just to hug you goodbye.

I can hear you, though you think no one can—

I can hear you whisper you miss me and I

Know

You were the biggest difference

I ever made on the world.