Here No More

Here No More Peering from my bedroom window I see the last bit of life- The last bit of life my father left. He left not by choice, not by brute force, but because he was left. What does an eight- an eight year old know about divorce? “Daddy did something bad.” “We’re going to Aunt Stacey’s house.” But mommy “Don’t go upstairs! If you go upstairs you’re punished.” “Come on, we’re leaving!” An eight- an eight year old knows: love sadness confusion rage guilt But most of all, an eight- an eight year old knows when their life, their world CHANGES And the only thing concrete in their life is what they can see whenever they want And for me- for me when I looked outside my window EVERYDAY I saw the tree- the tree my father and I planted TOGETHER