Illustration by Paul Campbell © 2006
Wait Your Turn
by Shelly Muir © 2006
Just the other day
we were sitting in the sun watching
Henry and Wiley, our two dogs, play;
Mom, I said, I know I would be happier if I was
just not here.
She knew I wasn't talking about moving
to Biloxi .
She couldn't understand why I was having such a hard time
with grief.
I had no answer.
Then she said these words:
“Wait your turn. You will be with your dad
again, but you have to wait your turn.
Do not keep away from those who love you.
Allow us to grieve with you,
because we love you.”
I've smoked eight of his last cigarettes,
two a year for each he's been gone.
I still look behind me--sometimes
my loneliness sharpens the edges in the space
he used to move through.
But I am no longer alone.
I practice the art of waiting,
here, in the sun, watching our two dogs
play.
END
Bio:
I was born in Grants Pass, Oregon, but I'm Portland raised. I love animals--many of my jobs have been in vet clinics--and when not caring for my cats in my spare time I haunt my neighborhood flower shop and fail miserably to resist the temptation to swipe flowers from other people's gardens on my walks...on occasion. My dream is to cover the non-existent beat of TV and film for my neighborhood's paper. As for literary interests, I fell in love with Robert Frost at age 14 but I confess a morbid interest in true crime and an obsession with the Sci Fi Channel show, "Farscape." And I love ancient history. Sometimes I wish I lived in another time...pre-Atlantean perhaps...