Ode to Kara

In the silence of snow

    your heavy step seems to vibrate

    through the brick walls of this house.

I sense your presence each day

    as you walk or rather, hobble

    up our steep hill after school.

On this day a newly fallen

    quilt of white is here

    the world is soft,

    for now.

I envision the large, navy blue buttons

 of your wool coat,

mis-buttoned and crooked 

as always

thrown wide open,

 inviting the winter

winds to touch your flesh.

My gaze followed 

the swing of your walk.

One heavy foot landing, and then the other.

Your sway from side to side propelled

 the oversized bookbag

 to join the swing, buckles flung wide open.

In those years, I hear you like clockwork each day

 the hum of your singing,

 reciting the Presidents, 

musing aloud.

Ma urging me again and again,

“go walk with her”  “go and be kind”

and so I did go and I did try

to be kind.

On this one snowy day,

Unbidden, I ran fast to meet you.

Abandoning an old stone wall inside of me

 I ran. 

Slipping on hidden layers of ice, 

I ran.

Longing to meet you and unsure why,

then our eyes met on this day

and sweet joy swept across your face.

This time, for the first time

I saw deep weariness in your round face

 landscaped with acne.

Your glasses askew perched above your wide smile,

this moment is with me now. 

I saw you.

Walking up our hill on that day 

we were young girls together,

 that is all.

Days and years have passed like a light breeze,

any illusions of being cool long gone.

The gentle quiet of a moment, a sight or sound

 beckons the past and I visit with you

 from here.

I sense your awkward steps and your wide smile

I can even feel the way your bookbag swings,

and then,

 as softly as snow falling

my heart warms, unfolds, 

and remembers

 how to love wider.

I bow down

and thank you.

N.L. Reynolds