She stares at the blank sheet of paper, pen in poised hand. Peggy struggles to write the therapy assignment Mr. Harper gave that’s due tomorrow: Express how you feel. He’s seen some of my poems, but I haven’t written in so long.
fractured– Yes, I feel broken into sharp pieces.
echoing silence of
unspoken– All this time, no contact. Either of us could have phoned. Why not me?
tumbling debris of
abandoned– Wasted years, so many things missed.
unfelt– A year went by, then one after another. I just quit thinking of her.
time runs on
until it is no more– What if I never again hear Mom’s voice? Never, ever.
now– “Sorry,” a simple, healing word.
the need is
urgent– That’s where I am now, need to tell it. Others may learn from my mistakes.
Guess that wraps it up. I’ll see what Mr. Harper thinks I can do with my poem when I see him tomorrow, but for today– Peggy picks up the phone. Renewed in strength, she rings a number she hasn’t touched in years, “Dad? It’s Peggy. Sis finally got a hold of me, said Mom’s pretty serious. Can I come to the hospital and see her? See you...”
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