When people move away, and you’re still in the same place
The same place turns into something strange:
It feels new because you seem to know nobody,
But it is still new because the new place excitement just isn’t there.
When people move away, you finally realize
How your mother felt when you left home.
The phone calls are rituals, obligations,
Like a habit which when stopped hurts the other.
They don’t depend on you so much any more,
Don’t tell you what they do, and leave out the details.
It sometimes scares you, always makes you sad
Do they not remember any more, the little things
That made things work? And sometimes, you wonder
If you’ll be the first they call, like they always did,
When nothing is going right, or they just want
A bit of love, a taste of home, a long hug…
Or would the geographical barrier have succeeded
In separating them from you? Will you be strangers
Who smile uncomfortably at reunions,
And make small talk about separate lives?
What makes relationships last, things work?
What makes the distance go away, so that
When you finally meet, it feels like home again?
Like the most comfortable love in the world?