Minnie

The Minnie doll that once sat on the counter,

the one that my little sister begged Mom to buy

during our trip to Disney Land

is now a memory burned in my brain

of when I was six and she was two.

 

The day after our jet lag, I was

chasing her around the house.

I chased her out the door,

laughing and taunting her.

I was six and she was two.

 

I never saw her run to the road,

never saw the car come at 80 mph,

never heard a sound until the crash.

I never understood what was going on,

but I was six and she was fading fast.

 

Mom ran out the door screaming and crying;

all I knew was that something was wrong.

She called the ambulance and spoke frantically.

The ambulance came, but it was no use.

I was six, and she was gone.

 

Minnie’s eyes seemed to follow me everywhere,

penetrating glares haunting me,

but I didn’t really care.

All I wanted was to turn back time

so I’d be seven, and she’d be here.

 

Then I was nine, and she would have started kindergarten.

But her little chair seated another girl.

Mom said her doll had to go.

It was the last to go.

I was nine, and she was really, truly gone.

 

Now I’m 18, and I still touch the counter every day.

Mom never put anything else in Minnie’s place.

Every time I touch Minnie’s empty space,

I hear the crash, hear Mom screaming and crying,

and I just wish. Oh, how I wish.

 

That I could be 18, and she could be starting high school.

That I could be 22, and she could be graduating.

That I could be 30, and she could be getting married.

That I could be 32, and she could be a mother.

That I could be any age, and she’d still be there.

Reviews

[Karen]

Wow... this poem was so amazing, like storytelling poetically. I was immediately drawn to the storyline and felt immersed in the poem. Beautifully, hauntingly written.

[Treble]

Thank you so much! I'm so glad it had that effect on you! :)