Kraddish

My living room is a sanctuary Protecting my mind From the world outside. The walls are lined tools, For the imagination and hands. Shelves filled with books and games, Cabinets full of paints and hand tools. It is filled with the scent Of aging books, vanilla, and fresh paint. I spend countless hours here Lost in thought or in other worlds, Without fear of disturbance.

Sitting alone again, Why is it always alone? Am I really alone In this time and place. The ticking of the clock Is the only marker That time has not stopped. A knock at the door Yes! A visitor, but no Only a lost soul. Still alone in this space.

Strength Praying for the strength to see me through this, I watch impatiently for them to pull up in the driveway. Minutes seem to stretch into hours. Today we find out whether or not the cancer is fully gone. Last month's scans had shown very little of the cancer left. She left hours ago, smiling and full of hope. With luck she will return the same way. The sound of tires on gravel brings my attention back to the window.  Here they come around the corner and up into the driveway.  Dad gets out first and hurries around to help Mom from the car. She seems so small and weak as she slowly gets out.  Pink floral bandana fluttering in the wind