constructing poetry

1995: coming home for Christmas

I cried when they left me—
seven souls in a big blue van
heading east again
while I stayed behind.
I was eighteen. I wanted
college. I even wanted
to be so far away, but
watching them go
I remembered how much
I’d miss them—Mama and Daddy.
Joyce and Rachel,
Lorenzo and Madeline,
and Rose. she was only two,
learning new words and
living at a run. so sweet.
would she even remember me?

six months is an eternity
for a young woman who
never had been away from home
for more than a week. but our
family road trip was in July,
and coming home to fly away
in September? so we drove through
mountains and canyons,
visiting family and singing the
bickering away, and when we reached
my aunt, I stayed. they left.
and I would be gone until Christmas.

I wrote often, but Rose—
too small to read. I drew pictures
of my life. my dorm room,
the mountain, the cafeteria
where I took my meals with a thousand
other freshmen who became
familiar—almost family.
but not quite.

midterms. Thanksgiving with
my aunt. finals.
then Christmas and home
on a plane with a layover
in Denver that lasted hours
longer than it should have
while the plane
experienced issues
and I couldn’t rest for aching—
their absence was like the hole
left by a pulled tooth.
wrong. painful.

in those days, they could
meet me at the gate—seven souls
standing in a group,
waiting for me to clear it
so they could descend on me
with hugs and conversations
started and overlapping, a familiar
music—and I was whole again,
but when I bent to Rose,
she shrank away.

I brushed it off as though
it didn’t hurt, and we headed home,
Rose staring at me
as though I were a stranger
through baggage claim
and into the car where someone
else took the seat that once was mine,
and the city was dark and cold
in the hour it took to get home,
and my room had been changed
because I didn’t live there anymore,
and home felt wrong—like trying on someone
else’s shoes,

until Rose reached up
and touched my face
and smiled,
and I was home for Christmas.

line count: 75

Prompt ▼

Theme: Your favorite or most memorable Christmas. Be descriptive and let us in on the backstory as to the why it stands out in memory.
Words to use: Any and all you wish :)
Forbidden words: Free day :)
Additional parameters: at least 48 lines.