By Rachel Beckmann
"To the one who taught me to keep family close,
to never go away mad, to not get lost,
and to not take wooden nickels.
I am unsure of how many days
I have with you.
With your years nearing eighty,
I cannot help but wonder
If you’ll be able to reach the mountains
Again, or if the farthest you’ll go is
Michigan City out of the fear of the fifteen hour
Drive being too harsh on your brittle bones.
The child in me hopes that
Victoria from Denny’s
Never has to wonder where her
‘favorite customer’ went, because
I would be the one to answer.
And I don’t want my name to be marked
Across your 1959 Harley or the iPad you
continuously refused to learn how
to properly use, because
It’s enough that your
Blood runs through my veins.
I promise you:
I won’t ever get lost because
it takes seventy-nine steps
to get from your house to mine
and as long as your greet me with
our handshake and a smile
with those crooked teeth, and lines
in the corner of your eyes
I am right at home."
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