I WEAR MY SUNDAY DRESS
ON A SATURDAY
and ride in the back seat
with my little sister.
Daddy had called up the stairs,
“You girls put on your nicest dresses now.
We’re going to see your Mommy.”
Came up kinda sudden-like.
“….and don’t forget to run a brush through your hair!”
That one was for me.
We changed, came downstairs,
twirled around in front of him,
to see if we passed muster.
I am not keen on going,
except that Daddy is driving
and I’d rather go where he is going than just about anywhere else in the world.
* * *
UP A WINDING COUNTRY ROAD we go,
trees flying by our windows.
I don’t know what the place looks like,
where Mommy is,
but Daddy knows his way.
At an unmarked driveway, he turns.
Up and around
to a big, old house
on the top of a hill.
There’s a sign: “Hi-View.”
People are scattered about -
on porches, on the grass,
standing, sitting, walking.
Some alone, some in groups.
* * *
DADDY GOES INTO THE HOUSE
and comes right back out,
striding across the wide lawn,
signaling us to follow.
We are a distance behind him,
trying to keep up.
He closes in fast
on a woman in a light colored dress
sipping a cool drink
on a chaise lounge,
looking like a celebrity.
He moves so fast
I fear he will startle her
and I want to call out to him,
but he is too far ahead now
and I have my sister lagging behind.
She refuses to take my hand.
He stops abruptly by the woman.
They are talking.
He must know her.
Drawing closer, I see….it’s Mommy.
I have failed to recognize my own mother
and it’s only been a week.
* * *
I STOP.
So does my sister.
Daddy signals us to come closer.
My sister holds my hand now
and we step up together.
I feel awkward
and don’t know what to say to Mom,
so I say,
“Why is there a leaf in your tea?”
“Spearmint,” Mom says.
“There is nothing so grand
as a sprig of spearmint in your iced tea!”
My mother has gone exotic,
all in just a week’s time.
* * *
HE WANTS HER TO COME HOME,
but she isn’t ready.
She claims that’s what the doctor says.
Allowed to play with sticks
in a nearby stream,
we can still hear our father’s voice,
even when he’s trying to whisper.
“The children need their mother.”
I try to move my sister
downstream a little farther
but it makes no difference.
There are some things you cannot move out of earshot of,
no matter how far you go.
Clearly,
my sister and I have been brought along as bait.
And we have failed in this role,
Sunday dresses and all.
* * *
Next post in this series: “They Wouldn’t Let Me Come Anymore“
