Finishing a Thirty Nine Year Marathon
I round the last bend
and embrace the sweet scent of belonging,
inside a house that I grew up in
weathered, drafty and cold
but firmly tied with a comforting ribbon of warm hearts and helping hands.
One hundred years and still standing beneath the birch, maple, and pine
encircled by a flecked emerald carpet
shining like a precious gem
surpassing the test of time and space.
And the journey apart
melts before me
like morning dew
reviving the earth, the two red rose buds outside the kitchen window
The bees, bamboo and the poison ivy
to block my path, change my mood
challenge me to ignore the Why’s, the uncompromising past.
As I steady myself to run up and over the last hill
musing over humid nights in Hawaii
the nights I cried myself to sleep
lost in paradise
trapped inside a filthy haze
of never enough
should have and might have been.
I clench my teeth and smile
knowing the fleeting nature of memory
that now and tomorrow is impermanent
confident as I sprint the final stretch, smother the ache
brood over the precious fruit from that union
flawed and sweet, still daring to overshadow his Dad, a Goliath.
As I reach the finish line and know
I am home.
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