I stood there in there somber darkness of the night time, the rocky pavement of our driveway beneath my bare, adolescent feet
I waited tolerantly, my feet aching as pebbles pressed into my tender toes
And you never came.
I sat there on that hideous tangerine sofa years later, anticipating heartfelt words and a genuine conversation filled with honest confessions and sincere apologies
Picking at my cuticles, chewing my already destroyed lips
But you never spoke.
I held my arms out wide with my luggage beside me, as you recited the standard goodbye that you know so well
That my "mother would be so proud" and you'll "call everyday", but you seemed to forget to say you loved me
An empty farewell, spoken without feeling, while I desired a final hug
And you never hugged me.
I called you from college, twice everyday
Surrendering to your average voice mail recording, I left messages playfully begging you to call me back
But you never called.
I came back home for the holidays, visiting friends and old teachers that molded me as a parent would
I came back to our big, traditional brick house with that familiar red door
Twisted the golden door knob that had previously led to so many disappointing nights when I came home from school to an empty home
A note on the kitchen counter, and twenty dollars for dinner
But this time I opened the door and the emptiness felt permanent, a perpetual vacuity that I knew I could never fulfill.
You were gone
And you never said goodbye.