Memoirs

Good Morning?

good morning?

i wake early,
before anyone else,
and hope against hope that my prayers were answered.

that dad came home in the night,
went to sleep in his room,
and still would be there.

so i get up without waking anyone,
walk down the hallway to his room,
and nudge open the door.

he's not there,
no one is,
the bed is still made.

maybe he's downstairs,
already awake,
making breakfast for me.

with hope in my heart,
i creep downstairs,
crushed to find it empty too.

sit down in his red chair,
turn on the tv,
try to watch american idol.

i remember my words,
in an email i sent:
'don't worry, i won't watch ai without you'

i turn the tv off,
can't concentrate anyway,
on the host's words.

can't eat, either,
or go back to sleep,
or go on the internet.

my focus is shattered,
my logic shot,
my heart broken.

i have to write to dad,
like i used to before,
have to tell him what i feel.

so i get my notebook and a pen,
go into his room,
and shut the door.