Look Back

Alone. I balanced on the ladder, baby-doll dangling, leading to off-limits mysteries above. I felt it. A groan from the gate - I looked back, and there was nothing.

Alone

Alone. I walked, brown bag lunch wagging at my side, to the crossing guard She glanced past me. I looked back, newspaper fluttering, and there was nothing.

Alone

Alone. I whispered, phone clutched, cord stretching the privacy into the closet. I sensed it. I looked through the crack, mug on the table, and there was nothing.

Alone

Alone. I crouched hiding, holding my breath, looking to secretly go with my friend. I heard the wind whisper. I looked back, soft yellow light behind the fluttering curtain, and there was nothing.

Alone

Alone, I glanced, handbag swinging, watching him come to me, and then turn to the girl with the beer. I felt a mist. I looked back, a single bench, and there was nothing.

Alone

Alone. I exhaled, wilting flowers clinging to my wrist, waiting outside the lobby. I felt the chill. I looked back, shadows on the sidewalk, and there was nothing.

Alone

Alone. I waited, the tassel hanging on the cap, and checked the clock. I heard the tick. I looked back, to a darkened ballroom, a lonely person slipping into the dark, and there was nothing.

Alone

Alone. I sat among the boxes, clutching a photo, staring out my window at the tire swing. A creak of wood, I looked back. Only sunshine waxed the floor, and there was nothing.

Alone

Alone. I went to the window, holding and folding the class schedule, and watched her drive. A buzz. I looked back, and there was nothing.

Alone

Alone, I perched, hugging a pillow, as he left. I heard the screen door slap. I looked back. Taillights mocking, and there was nothing.

Alone

Alone. I stand with my tears, hold tight to her hand, as her last breath is drawn. I hear the silence. I look down, and see.

There was always something behind me. Unnoticed, slipping through the creaking gate, concealed behind the news, breezing past, peeking from behind the curtain, stepping into shadows, tiptoeing in the halls and on the pine board floors, eyes in the rearview mirror ready to turn around, a text message, and holding my broken heart.

I could not see that I was never alone. I do now.

I shutter, holding my breath, wishing she had one more so I could tell her what I never saw behind me, but what I felt.

Her presence in every challenge – protecting, consoling, urging, supporting. But now.

Nothing moves, and I don’t look back.

For now, I truly am.

Finally.

Fatefully.

Alone.