Photo courtesy marthastewart.com

This Will Never Work

He brought his dog with him/My daughter hugged them both

At Christmas my Auntie Lorna said,
Listen to me
When Himself goes to sleep I just redo the tree
He never notices; I never argue

So decades later, when he said you live too far away,
I said, I don’t
But I smiled

He said okay, then I live too far away
I shook my head and grinned

I left tea in his kitchen
Earl Grey; the good stuff
Still too far he said
Wrong, I countered

Bananagrams were left behind
Practice, I advised as I trotted out the door

This will never work, he said
You’re too short for me; we look silly
I kissed his cheek, on tiptoes

He texted he’d found my blue sock
The next week I left its mate

I made him brownies
With a pinch of cayenne
And a dash of love
He ate them all

Next month he whined again
Too far, he said
Too cold, he said

I flipped on the seat warmers in my car
And shrugged as I reached to kiss him
You’re wrong, I whispered

Why, he asked
Because you make me laugh, I said

He brought his dog with him
My daughter hugged them both
He grumbled about the drive
But his words died in the spring air

Next I stuffed a drawer with my clothes
You’re still too far, he said
My sigh filled the room

Move closer, he said
Make room, I said

Months later I heard him whine,
It’s too noisy here now

I laughed and put on the kettle