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come and go

I shrug off my moccasins and pad down the darkened hallway.

The walls echo a stillness.

but On each patch of bareness I see a face. Still brimming with life.

One for each that was long forgotten.

If I could write each face a letter I would, and tell them how, their short lived friendship impacted me so. How it helped to mold me and make my heart this odd oblong shape.

A shape like no other.

I look upon the faces, etched in the bare walls and realize there are too many letters to be sent and not enough change in my turtle bank for postage.

So i write letters to Lord and he delivers them for me. Free of charge.

I send one too the girl who loved to imagine. Loved to sit on the swings in a jumper. Then launch and fly into a world of fairies and make believe

Another to the girl who hurt so deep. Who trespassed with me into lush fields and we stole goose eggs and chased away the afternoons. Only to return home to our hidden stack of secrets.

Then one to the boy who could not make up his mind. I tried so hard to help him, but in the end, I turned him over to the Lord so that his hurt did not become my own.

Then several, to the girls who befriended me in that final year. So that I left with a good taste on my tongue. And years past, I will never forget us laughing hysterical in the dark tent that soft summer’s night.

May more to write, I list them off to him and he wraps them in gold envelopes and sends them adrift on the sparkling river.

With each note we send a prayer.

He reminds me that soon I will have more letters to send, more forgotten faces on my wall. But in a different house at different place in time.

I do not mourn the lost friendships as I head back down the hall. Wishing each face a good night and kissing them ever so sweetly on the cheek.

Instead, I choose to trust that each had its time and its own purpose.

Back in my room I creep under my quilt and shut off my lamp.


Outside my door the faces chatter about the ‘old days’, along the hall.


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