Foxvoices
05-08-2006, 12:06 AM
Old girlfriend from years ago suddenly appearing just to say, "Hi",
and it's been over thirty years since our informal goodbye.
At least it's on the internet, and she found my name (she hopes) on some site.
Should I give her my address? Somehow that doesn't feel right.
Hope my wife doesn't mind, though I know damned well she will.
Maybe I should just ignore the message, and let it go--still...
She says she lives in Tennessee, so she's not exactly close by.
What would it hurt to catch up on family--to see who's still living, or departed,
or to try to explain why?
Just a few words to clear the record of my sudden change of mind.
How I was too young then, and her too, and all the reasons I couldn't find.
And about wanting to live in combat, or travel to a star...
perhaps even to come back home and drink myself under the bar.
I guess it's best to leave those old memories alone; I'm not living them anyway.
But all that didn't bother me 'til she contacted me today.
Twenty-nine October, nineteen sixty-eight.
The last time that I saw her, and left her standing at the gate.
I caught my flight to fantasy, and she headed home to wait.
We made our vow to marry if I didn't get home too late.
I woke up dreaming, a dream I still recall.
Just three more months to live in sand and mud, and grass way too tall.
But then I felt a shadow obliterating mine.
The letter came to warn me of the sadness I would find.
So I pushed time back six months more, to try to ease the pain.
I scorched my eyes on bright sunshine, and lived out in the rain;
but once more the time for leaving came, and this time I fly.
Back to the land of never more--back to the land of "why".
And through the years I spent my time forgiving and forgetting.
Not tough enough to dig too deep for fear of whose blood I'd be letting.
So now old wounds have begun to ache, but no blood issues forth.
I'm happy in my happy life--I know just what it's worth.
So, yes, it's okay to talk to her, and I can say, without regret,
"Hey Sandy, I'm doing fine with my life. Am I happy now...you bet!"
and it's been over thirty years since our informal goodbye.
At least it's on the internet, and she found my name (she hopes) on some site.
Should I give her my address? Somehow that doesn't feel right.
Hope my wife doesn't mind, though I know damned well she will.
Maybe I should just ignore the message, and let it go--still...
She says she lives in Tennessee, so she's not exactly close by.
What would it hurt to catch up on family--to see who's still living, or departed,
or to try to explain why?
Just a few words to clear the record of my sudden change of mind.
How I was too young then, and her too, and all the reasons I couldn't find.
And about wanting to live in combat, or travel to a star...
perhaps even to come back home and drink myself under the bar.
I guess it's best to leave those old memories alone; I'm not living them anyway.
But all that didn't bother me 'til she contacted me today.
Twenty-nine October, nineteen sixty-eight.
The last time that I saw her, and left her standing at the gate.
I caught my flight to fantasy, and she headed home to wait.
We made our vow to marry if I didn't get home too late.
I woke up dreaming, a dream I still recall.
Just three more months to live in sand and mud, and grass way too tall.
But then I felt a shadow obliterating mine.
The letter came to warn me of the sadness I would find.
So I pushed time back six months more, to try to ease the pain.
I scorched my eyes on bright sunshine, and lived out in the rain;
but once more the time for leaving came, and this time I fly.
Back to the land of never more--back to the land of "why".
And through the years I spent my time forgiving and forgetting.
Not tough enough to dig too deep for fear of whose blood I'd be letting.
So now old wounds have begun to ache, but no blood issues forth.
I'm happy in my happy life--I know just what it's worth.
So, yes, it's okay to talk to her, and I can say, without regret,
"Hey Sandy, I'm doing fine with my life. Am I happy now...you bet!"