Written on October 11, 2013 at 10:12pm
. . . . . . .
. In Memorium Sheryl Laird-Partington, 3/28/1970-10/12/09
the moment came
dreaded and feared
of having to enter the home
after the murder
still swarthed in shock
i stare at this house,
this small house
this house of so many dreams
and trying to breathe,
trying to brace,
and it is quiet...
i inhale slowly
smelling: the house, the cat, the familiar scents...sister's perfume
a few toys lay scattered on the floor
dvd cases still open..movies still waiting to be watched.
a glass of water on the table by the couch...
i see the out-of-place
the small throw rug, in the hallway
covering a stain, slightly shy of covering it completely
the dark brown rust around the edges.
i know, i know, i know
husband tried to spare me this...
where she died...
i blink slowly
walk quickly over it
to the kitchen
the oven door is open, a tray of uneaten toast lies on top
the juice is on the table, glass part full
the sink filled with dirty dishes
the cat's food bowls-full and untouched...
i look around, everything beautiful, her
the paper lace edging the shelves
the painted rocks...the love of home...
i take the painted rock...yes..
turning,...i quickly enter into little ones room
gentle blue and soft
clouds painted lovingly on the wall...
toys strewn along with shoes and clothes...
the hurry of a rushed morning getting ready for school evident...
i look slowly, trying to remember every detail
and enter into the heart of the house
her room...fresh painted yellow, new color for a new start,
i take it in....it is beautiful and bright and makes my eyes water
the bed is rumpled and unmade, her satin robe carelessly strewn across the bed
ready for the next night's wear...walking over...i pick it up, hold it to my face
and yes, there she is, the scent of her...
this too i will take....
i look carefully
each photo, each memory, each dream
the delicate porcelain shoes still perched on their display...
just a normal day, the house reflecting only the daily motions,
the only sign hidden mostly under a rug
so with this rock, with this robe i say goodbye...call out softly to the cat...
and still..it will not come