waiting for the nightly call of “Supper’s ready”.
November meant gray hooded sweatshirts and
cups of black coffee. Talking with you on the phone
you told me how dark it was already at home and I
realized how far west I was with daylight hanging on.
Some days the sky turned orange or purple, a few
hours later stars shined brighter than ever, the night
so dark you really can’t see your hand in front of you.
Some nights made me think about how I got there and
I’d tell you I didn’t know how good life was back then.
But that’s not true. Sadly I was like the so many others,
worrying about how things always have to end instead of
enjoying the moments. Twenty years later, I’m on my own
porch with a cup of coffee looking up at the sky, thankful
for where I am, all that I have, and for moments like this.