I watch you walk out of my room, with an armful of my clothes.
I watch as you slowly walk down the stairs, carefully avoiding
The fifteenth step, so you won’t wake me up.
It’s a force of habit, I think.
I follow you down the stairs, and see you open the garage door.
For a minute, my heart sinks.
It looks as though you are going to throw them out,
Please don’t do it!
I watch as you almost throw them away, then think twice and
Turn toward the laundry room.
You lift the lid of the washer,
Pour in a capful of detergent, and turn it to gentle.
I watch as you sink down beside the washer
Leaning into it as if it is your sole support.
Your chest heaves, I wonder why.
You are crying.
I reach to wipe the tears from your face,
But my hand goes right through you.
It is then that I realize,
I am never coming back.
My clothes are pure white now,
Mom, you don’t have to wash them.
My wings are bright as new fallen snow.
You don’t have to worry about me, really.
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