A Waft

By Eleanor Raine

Now sand seeps into shoes,

wings flying, beaks squawking above.

Around me, laughs circle

birthed in the joy of sun

slowly falling into the water.

A fire crunching –

kindled by friends, everything new.

A smile tugs at my cheeks.

Joy breaking any tension in me

with the waves, rolling in and away,

but one shout too familiar,

a move too much like one I know,

far away. a moment of joy,

or a memory of it – older, different

And suddenly I am back

before suitcase zippers closed,

wheels clunked downstairs

and took off, hauled half a world away

with fear that turned butterflies to spiders.

Somehow waves sound like the churn

and steam from dad’s coffee machine.

Icy coastal breeze like a cool swish

through cracked windows,

carrying scents of a memory’s wintery trees

longing for a place I left, a moment –

then it’s gone.

Somehow mourning those still here

but too far for hugs and to hear

Now just texts and calls