Friday, April 17, 2015


Day 17 NaPoWriMo. Tonight's installment was inspired by a message from eBay and a note from a friend whose father-in-law passed.


eBay says it’s shipped
the gift I bought for Ella.
I discover old friends
have passed away
via Facebook. My wife
PM’s me from the family room,
and my sons rarely call: it’s
all about texting emoticons
these days. To feel grounded
I sometimes drag out old shoeboxes
(yes, really, shoeboxes) of Mom
or Dad’s letters. Seeing their handwriting
reaches parts of me the wired world
cannot. I sense the mood of the words
from written gesture, color of ink, a word
scratched out, underlined three times.
As I read I hear their voices in my head.
With the immediacy and evanescence
of  today’s connection, what shoebox
will my sons  open tomorrow? How will
they fit the sound of my voice into their
hearts? What of me will reach them
once my number is undialable, my server
forever disconnected?

1 comment:

Cheryl Goveia said...

Wow, this one really hit home. I have boxes of letters from my brother from when he was in the Peace Corps in Tanzania...that was the last time I had a true letter writing relationship and I miss it....and since he's married with children, I miss him. Nice point.