my dad is moving halfway across the country
at 90 almost
and this place where he’s been living
I will never see it again
I haven’t known it long
and it is not beautiful or magnificent
not special at all
except, I don’t know why, to me
he won’t be closer or farther
I am far away
I just stay here once in a while
when we clumsily spend time together
it’s just that I will never SEE it again
I will not be HERE in the future
where I can still see my children and their children
awkwardly comfortable on last summer’s visit
who moves at such an age?
long before that you go somewhere to die
and slowly circle in on the campus,
the wing, the room, the bed
zooming in on the death bed…!
wait! I know what it is! this place!
before the buildings were here!
we came here — you were small children then —
dad lived nearby
and we picked pecans off the ground and played in the brown leaves
laughter and frolicking and teasing and bullying
and life was hard and beautiful
and full of errors
I miss us being in one part of the world.
now not one is left in the place of your childhood.