Memory

When I was little

Mom would read me

a book each night

then tuck me in

and kiss

both cheeks

and my forehead.

 

My dad

would be at work

so he’d call

from his night job

and say Sleep tight,

don’t let the bed bugs bite,

and then Mom

would say

Good night, honey. Smooches.

And Dad would blow

a kiss

through the phone

and all was good

in our world.

 

Tonight

I whisper

Smooches

to myself,

and almost

hear a kiss

in the air

(or maybe it’s the fan),

but either way

I feel

a little more normal,

like maybe he’s still here,

but not in a ghost

kind of way,

more like in a

as long as I remember him

he’s still right here

in my heart

kind of way.