While I Was Away

“Hi mom.”
“Hi dad.”

“Yes, everything is fine.”
“Yes, work is good.”
“No, don’t worry.”

The calls are always short.

Five minutes.
Ten at most.

Life sounds simple on the phone.

You hang up
and everything feels normal.

Until one day
you see them again.

A little more white in their hair.
A few more lines around their eyes.
A slower movement you don’t remember.

They still say,
“We’re fine.”

And maybe they are.

But time has moved
more than you thought.

And you weren’t there
to see it.

And the hardest part
is not the call.

It’s when you have to leave again.

The walk to the car.
The hug that lasts a second longer.
The corner of the street.

Your throat tightens.
Your eyes begin to burn.
Your voice forgets how to speak.

And that last look
through the side mirror,
as they get smaller
until they disappear.

And with them,
a part of you.

— Fuerpa Slow Journal