It's Still Life

The Time of Asking

It’s that time of the year when everyone
is heading home. But we’re staying home.
Not going anywhere. Joan up the street,
she and her husband are going to Mexico
for Christmas. She pushed an early
greeting card through our letter slot
with a hand-written note. Nice touch
that read:

“Hope you have a happy Christmas”.

Joan stopped by the other day, and said
since we were staying home this Christmas
would we mind taking in their mail
and keeping their porch free of newspapers.
Since we’re not going anywhere, she smiled,
as if timing needed punctuation. Punitive
punctuation for our choice to stay home.
I suddenly had an urge to go somewhere.
Somewhere warm. Somewhere bright.
Somewhere where time packs its own bags
and leaves us all to momentary mercies.

dVerse “Time”