We, Like Children

She didn’t say her father died or

her dad died. She said my daddy died.

That word revealed to me all I needed

to know in that moment about a grown

woman weeping like a child lost in the dark.

She then told me she’d asked for a sign

as she stood still by his graveside, some

hint to indicate he was okay, which I

guessed meant he’d crossed over safely

to heaven or somewhere thereabouts. In

the wake of her plea a streetlamp shuddered.

At first fearful, she swore if it happened

again then all was well with her daddy.

The light stirred once more, as if on cue,

and in the retelling her tears fell no longer.

We live in a world thin as a tea bag, where

assurances steep through if we, like children,

are foolish and bold enough to simply ask.

 

 

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4 Comments

  1. Kay Hanevik on November 21, 2019 at 7:01 am

    I asked for a sign when my daddy died. Just like that, on a very calm day, the wind picked up the fallen leaves. They circled the grave site and the wind died.

  2. Sarah Oyerinde on November 21, 2019 at 10:22 am

    yep.

  3. Jane Spriggs on November 21, 2019 at 11:29 am

    Thank you, John.

    It’s hard to explain them, but think places just are.

  4. Annie B on November 21, 2019 at 9:01 pm

    Love this.

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