They walk out of the store as I’m tossing groceries in my car
I never noticed before, I never looked before
I just never saw what I refused to be me before
And somehow I missed it
because I had it for a while; the sunny smile,
the hand in mine
I didn’t need to notice the other people at the store
As I watch them walk across the parking lot,
hand in hand –
I notice them now, I see them now;
her laughing at something said, him looking back
bringing their joined hands up to
her face to brush against her cheek,
pushing their grocery laden cart with the kids walking behind;
arguing as siblings do
For a minute I thought it was me and,
for a second,
I forgot to remember
that that only used to be me and I knew how it felt;
I knew how it felt to be that
And I looked around and realized I hadn’t noticed before,
or maybe
that I just refused to look before,
or
that I just didn’t see before
I just never saw that just wasn’t me anymore,
just a ghost of the me before
And I watched as they packed their bags in the car;
laughing and talking
And the kids clamoring for attention;
an impromptu tickle fight buckling them into the car
The children’s squeals of delight cut through me like a knife
Her laughing as she climbs smiling into the car
And for a minute I hate her,
for a second I want to warn her to take care
She just may not notice before,
maybe she just won’t see before
a ghost of the her before –
walking out from a store, catching her off guard
while tossing groceries in the car
Realizing in a minute, knowing in that second
that she never noticed before,
she never looked before
she just never saw what she refused to be her before
and somehow she missed it
and it just wasn’t her anymore
Author Bio:
Jennie Hope Meres is a poet and fiction writer currently residing with her husband and children in the New York area. She fell in love with the nuances of words as a young girl after being handed a book of poetry. She then began her foray into the world of writing by emulating her favorite childhood poets until she grew into her own voice.
I never noticed before, I never looked before
I just never saw what I refused to be me before
And somehow I missed it
because I had it for a while; the sunny smile,
the hand in mine
I didn’t need to notice the other people at the store
As I watch them walk across the parking lot,
hand in hand –
I notice them now, I see them now;
her laughing at something said, him looking back
bringing their joined hands up to
her face to brush against her cheek,
pushing their grocery laden cart with the kids walking behind;
arguing as siblings do
For a minute I thought it was me and,
for a second,
I forgot to remember
that that only used to be me and I knew how it felt;
I knew how it felt to be that
And I looked around and realized I hadn’t noticed before,
or maybe
that I just refused to look before,
or
that I just didn’t see before
I just never saw that just wasn’t me anymore,
just a ghost of the me before
And I watched as they packed their bags in the car;
laughing and talking
And the kids clamoring for attention;
an impromptu tickle fight buckling them into the car
The children’s squeals of delight cut through me like a knife
Her laughing as she climbs smiling into the car
And for a minute I hate her,
for a second I want to warn her to take care
She just may not notice before,
maybe she just won’t see before
a ghost of the her before –
walking out from a store, catching her off guard
while tossing groceries in the car
Realizing in a minute, knowing in that second
that she never noticed before,
she never looked before
she just never saw what she refused to be her before
and somehow she missed it
and it just wasn’t her anymore
Author Bio:
Jennie Hope Meres is a poet and fiction writer currently residing with her husband and children in the New York area. She fell in love with the nuances of words as a young girl after being handed a book of poetry. She then began her foray into the world of writing by emulating her favorite childhood poets until she grew into her own voice.
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