Friday, October 16, 2015

I Was Supposed to Have a Better Weekend


I was supposed to be raking leaves this weekend.

   

I was planning to pull out my work gloves
and the rolls of big
garbage sacks
and we'd fill them
until we were tired enough
that 
around noon
we'd break for lunch
and I'd whip
up some sandwiches
that we'd eat on the deck
with the dogs
at our feet
begging
as usual
for the scraps.

They'd get 
scraps.
It was always
part of the deal
when we ate dinner
on the deck.

I was supposed to 
eat breakfast at the Legion
this weekend.
The works.
As usual.
Eggs and biscuits
and gravy
and bacon and toast
and sausage
and coffee
from some weird
stoneware
mug
that said
Earlham Savings Bank
on the side.

We'd get interrupted
five times in our morning conversation
by the coffee refill lady
doing her volunteer 
best
to make sure
we were caffeinated
and smiling
when we walked
out of the building
with toothpicks
in our teeth.

I was supposed to buy
marshmallows
for the campfire
this weekend.


Up there on the hill
where my Chuck sleeps
we were supposed to
light a fire
as the evening grew cooler
and the sun set behind the hill.
I had blankets 
in the studio
just for nights like this.
We'd need them
this weekend.
They say
we'll have frost.

I was supposed
to sing this weekend.
In the car.
On our road trip
on the way to
no where in particular.
With CD's.
Or songs
out of the blue.
That's what you do when
you're hanging with someone
you wear
wrapped around you like
a favorite sweater.
Comfortable.
Warm.
Safe.
The one you'd 
never part with.
Not ever.

I was supposed to 
pull my old sweatshirt 
out of the bottom drawer 
this weekend.
For our walk.
Down the gravel road
with the dogs.
We were
supposed to hear the sound
of neighbors
laughing
and enjoying the weekend.
We were supposed to 
look at the moon
and maybe
even wish upon a star.

We were
supposed to fall asleep
halfway into
The Hobbit
this weekend.
After I'd stolen
the best bite
from your toast.
After we'd laughed
remembering
the back-up noise
you made
every time Chuck
threw it into reverse
and left the bedside
to find his favorite spot for the night.

And I was supposed
to wake up
this weekend
with
my happy head
buried
in the clouds
and the planets
and the stars
just after it got light.

I was supposed to
have a better weekend
than this one.
One
I'd spend
lots of time
wondering
just how on earth
I got so
lucky.


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