Each year it's the same, the steps come one by one,
the Memories of one week that still leaves me so ridiculously damaged...
Bold recollection of one drive home, the Warmth of the leather,
cold December air to meet me, ice crunching beneath my eager feet
after a long day's work of "Thank you for calling Reno Air, how may I help you?"
The haunting sound of my boots as I stomp them from debris on the wooden porch, ironically restrospectively hollow now, that sound that I can't shake as I ready my keys to our door...
As I open the door the light is on over the stove, seeping ever so dimly into the large Family room,
where right in front of me there is our Christmas tree, illuminous as the Hole that's already begun to grow deep inside my soul.
My mind's eye already knows the rest, even now.
This room, left filled with my World, not 9 hours earlier,
now completely emptied, as though it were being shown by some Clown-Faced real estate agent,
Were it not for that Damned tree, all a lite, mocking, laughing, jeering, taunting...
Horrified, I race upstairs and the rooms are all empty, the baby is gone, his crib, his things...
The master bedroom still has all of my Grandfather's oak furniture,
On the nightstand, his Wedding band...
I make my way downstairs, I don't recall much now, and I am shaking, possibly crying...
Captivated, I just stare at that tree. And stare and stare and stare. Slowly I back up until my Back hits the wall.
Sliding down, I am transfixed by that tree and it's Cruelty.
Exactly as it is meant to be,
the total Undoing of me.