What’s Missing

I don't remember the day I left him and this once stately home where we raised our children. I only remember somehow knowing in my heart that my absence would merely be temporary. Then a surprise telephone call from him healed our past wounds with heartfelt dual apologies, and ended with words both of us should have spoken 26 years earlier. But I never imagined my return to this neglected old house would be owing to his dreadful diagnosis. Today I slowly wander through the rooms, seeing still in place, all the meaningless things I had left behind. As memories flood in I sit on the stair landing, covering my face with my hands, and realize how much is missing.

The broken circle

Mended far too late still holds

A genuine love

Naida Lavon

March 6, 2019

PCC Poetry Class

Angie Ebba, Instructor

Assignment: write a Haibun