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You left me only Rorschach memories. The fruit scent of still damp hair. A palm-sized egg rehomed in a half-hidden nest. Vacuum drone and the mystery of an open window. A jungle of ants in our acre of backyard. Your endless skin. An afternoon of promises written in canned hoops. Looped shoulders and retold stories. The gate squeaking at daycare. Tall black hats and the long trail. Your endless skin. Dad and I still visit this empty place once a year to mark the anniversary. I attribute meaning to every snowflake. Sunlight filters through my favorite white waffle weave blanket.

 

 

 

Melissa Jacob is passionate about inclusion and words. When not gainfully employed to facilitate the former she indulges in the latter. sarsaparilla72.wordpress.com.

 

 

 

Photo credit: ppdiaporama via Foter.com / CC BY-NC

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