When you visit
loved ones, there
is always the last
day of a visit,
when you make sure
you've said what
you have to say,
and you try to remember
to pack all the little things
you had brought
with the intention
of not leaving behind.
Being there
becomes so habitual
you believe
you'll be wakened
each morning of your life
with the pidder patter
of a toddler's feet above you,
and then
"it's time to leave"
and you hop on
some mode of transportation
and arrive home
and wake up
the next morning
to realize what had become
a 5 am alarm clock
has been turned off
until the next visit.
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