They won’t leave me at the airport
when I go back.
They will wait.
Park the truck,
carry my bags to the counter.
They won’t cry
and I won’t neither.
Dad will tuck bills
into the fold of my hand.
A little something
before I go back to the monopoly-colored
money in my wallet.
Mom will call me her baby
because even now,
all growed up and living away,
I am.
They’ll watch me pass security.
I won’t look back.
Jennifer deBie is an MA in Creative Writing student at University College Cork in Cork, Ireland. She is also a recent graduate of Angelo State University, a native Texan, and an aspiring poet, novelist, short story-ist, and general scribbler. Her work has appeared in Sound Historian, Quarryman, and will soon appear in Apricity literary journal.