Wednesday, March 23, 2016

One Little Blue Shoe





I love poetry, but I’m no poet. Most of the time that doesn’t upset me, but a while ago I wished I had the poet's heart because I wanted to write about the way Jack loves his dad.

It wouldn’t include the routine stuff, so it would miss out on the hundreds of father-son walks and the hours of early-morning board books while Mommy sleeps in the next room. All of that is beautiful to me in its quietness, but it’s not the poem I’d write if I could.

This poem would be about one morning two weeks ago. Chris kissed us goodbye and when he turned to wave from the driveway, Jack realized his dad wasn’t taking out the recycling or getting a toy from the car. Dad was actually leaving. In a panic, Jack scrambled to the door, grabbed one of his little blue shoes, and leaned against the window crying, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy…”

His face contorted with a tiny lifetime’s worth of regret. If only he had thought of his shoes sooner, Dad might not have left without him. They could be walking down the street together, and he wouldn’t be standing here alone by the window, holding one shoe, begging Daddy to come home.

My heart broke, and I wished I could write that poem.

b perry

4 comments:

  1. That little boy is absolutely perfect. What a sweet relationship.

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  2. <3 <3
    And this makes me wish I had actually worked harder at writing poetry so I could write it for you (I've always been too embarrassed to share any verse I write. I should work on that...)
    But all the same, this is some pretty poetic prose.

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  3. uh who cares if you can write poetry this blog post is ART :'}

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  4. I totally agree with Julia ^^ This post is amazing. I think you should focus on writing a book of prose. I look forward to it.

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