The Way Station

[thisnewday]

Little J has just left with his dad to go home for the evening. If I were one who got relief from emotional pain by jambing a needle into my arm, that's what I'd be doing right now. As it is, I'm writing this because I truly don't know what else to do.

The little boy stayed over last night because he wanted to see his mom, who lives on the other side of town. And she wouldn't be bringing him back here, to be picked up for the drive home, until well after his dad had left town for the evening.

So he stayed here. In this place that used to be his home but which now serves as little more than a way station, a stopping place between other destinations.

Meanwhile, the stationmaster/ from his childhood knows/ the epic wail/ of night trains rolling through/ the darkened towns and/ about the/ moving on/ moving on/ moving on/ which is the cadence/ the last car makes/ until it/ and all the rest/ are gone...

LPK
LiveJournal
1.4.2012 (b)

Comments

[earthmother45.livejournal.com]

I don't know anything about Little J or your life or his life, but it all translates so well. You write beautifully . . . poignant and bittersweet.

[olbuksings.livejournal.com]

Thank you for your kind comments. I became aware of your wonderfully creative circle through the "grandparenting" interest of one of your members. And I look forward to a future sharing of life experience and interests...