He takes a step,turns around and tells his old lady he’s just going to town. He looks down at his torn left shoe and finds comfort in his big sore toe showing through.
The first steps were so easy as he headed south. He had never smiled more in his life. It was no big smile, just a lift of his left cheek. He felt very free. He had no guilt and he did not waste thought on why. He had a slight moment of true sadness for his wife. She was not as strong to leave her life. It was a nice life. As simple as getting up, going to work,getting home,eating,talking about bills,sleeping,and getting up to do it again the next day and the next and the next and the next.
He pictured her in the family room, rocking their infant daughter and smiling at their toddler son. Maybe glancing at the door, like it was going to open, and he would walk back in, and toss a pack of cigarettes on the couch for her. No. He never would again. He was truly leaving them. He was definitely going somewhere. He had no clue where,but he didn’t want to slow his steps till he got there. Wherever there was.
Other than this dramatic take-off thirty some years ago, there is really no other change in his life. He met a woman, had a few more kids. Left them too. Took another walk. Settled down on the ground. Now he’s just staring around. His picture can be found on the computer. I can stare into his light blue eyes. I see the blue matches mine. I see they are most cloudy and unhappy. Not like mine. The faces of his past are haunting his vision whether his eyes are open or shut.
Now he just sits, staring, waiting. Waiting to be found maybe. Sometimes I dream that I am the one that reaches out my hand to help him stand as I tell him who I am. Each morning I put on my shoes thinking he really is in my heart. As I start walking, I definitely know he will always be waiting because he took us apart.