Lily of My Heart

Leaving Us

Moving to California

When you told us that you were moving to California
from your small (as I imagined it, I never went sadly)
apartment in New York City, I cried and cried.
You were transferred from your job and you wanted change,
you'd never been out West and you wanted to see it—
I feared I'd never see you again because visits wouldn't be frequent.
I imagined what life would be without our Saturday morning ritual,
and knowing you're not a few hundred miles away, but a thousand—
it seemed really far and I didn't want to say goodbye to you.
This was 1998, things went well for two years;
you came and visited every two months or so,
a road trip to visit nan, dad, mom, me and the other exchange students
and you'd bring me little trinkets like hair pins and key chains.
You made our time very special for the weekends you'd stay
and I loved hearing your stories, wishing I could go back with you.

Leaving Us

But things changed in 2000 when you came to visit,
my first year in middle school, I was still so excited.
It was a few weeks before Christmas and times were intense
with buying you the perfect gift, putting up the tree, getting ready.
When you arrived, you quickly announced the news:
you had a new girlfriend, someone you met in the office;
she was an American citizen, of Venezuelan decent (I think)
and she would be visiting with you next month so we can meet.
She came in January 2001, I was still on winter break,
we didn't like her, she was really snotty and hardly talked
and very condescending, although she had a daughter.
You were happy with her, but nan told you her opinion—
you called us less and less and the visits were infrequent,
but then September 11th happened and you feared
being kicked out of the US. You were going to marry her;
you invited us to your wedding in Vegas, a shotgun wedding,
but we couldn't go because of school, work and other obligations—
You never forgave us and you never talked to us again.