Friday, January 21, 2011

I Remember from the Top of the Stairs

I remember
From the top of the stairs
When I saw you there
Talking to my mother
About the science fair.

I remember
When we went that night
With my hair combed over
And my shoelaces tied
And I saw you from the hallway.

Then the year
The first of middle school
When you played trombone
And I played bassoon
And our moms took turns driving us there.

Then the day
In the afternoon
When I waited at your house
Before your soccer practice
And you showed me your brother's bedroom.

I remember
When you lost your mouse
And your mom was scared
But you were not
And we laughed till our throats were dry.

I remember
The year I didn't grow
But you were three inches taller
And your mother said
I should ask you on a date.

When we sat
At the top of your house
And you talked about
The shapes of the clouds
And I saw your hand was empty.

Then in March
Five weeks from prom
When I made that cake
Then I heard in math
You had just been asked by Daniel.

And the summer 
That I joined the team
And I had to spend
My Saturdays
Lying in the weight room.

Then the spring
During your family trip
When my parents had me sit
In the living room
And they cried when they told me.

I remember
On the fold-up chairs
And you were there
In the hospital room
When we practiced graduation.

I remember
At the flower store
When the words of the nurse
Repeated in my ears
That maybe you could hear me.

As I stood
Just inside of the door
And your mom hugged me
And your dad sadly smiled
And you laid there like an angel.

I remember
When they left the room
And your eyes were closed
And your hand was opened up
And I cried just like a baby.

Then the moment
When I wiped my tears
It was almost silent
Except for footsteps in the hall
And the soft sound of your breathing.

Then the day
It was sunny outside
And my hair was combed
And my black shoes tied
Your face was whiter than the casket.

When they laid
You in the ground
And our faces down
The dirt was soft and brown
And green hills were all around.

As I sit
At the top of my stairs
I remember
What we did those years
And my heart fills up with gratitude.

2 comments:

  1. How will I ever stop crying and go teach my piano students. This is beautiful. I will probably read it a hundred more times. Thanks for sharing.

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  2. Thank you for reading it! You are wonderful.

    ReplyDelete