A Fragment of Yesterday

A few months ago, I came up with the following lines.  They are just few simple verses I whipped up in about ten minutes or so.  I was meaning to expand the ideas somehow, but I just never got around to picking it back up.  Perhaps it was because the lines are so simple, that it is harder to finish them off.  Anyway, here they are

One word is all I need,
     Take you away from here.
You just have to say it
     And then we will be free.
Pick you destination,
     Pick anywhere at all.
Then we'll be together
     And never be apart.

As you can see, the verses are fairly simple, with an off-rhyme scheme.  I am still not sure what I need to do to complete this poem.  It isn't bad, per se, but it seems too simple to be finished.  The night I came up with this, I tried to write a second stanza, but nothing seemed to go with it.  Maybe anyone out there can help me out.  The poem feels whole, but it still needs more.  It just seems missing something, but I can't figure out what.  Well, I have some news.  Starting either next week or the following one, not only will I go back to my book, I think I will be able to post more than once a week.  At least for the next month or so.  Since I will be on winter break from grad school, I will have more time to write what I want to write. Until next semester, when I will hopefully be taking an advanced fiction writer's workshop.  I probably won't be able to continue this project for the class, but  I will be writing something else, short stories I think.  Anyway, I will be writing more, so be looking out for it.

A Better Road Tomorrow

I have had this poem rumbling around my brain for a few years now, but I am only now putting it down.  However, there is something missing about it, but I can't figure out what.  Maybe by letting it to into the public like this, I will be able to find out what.  So, here it is

A Better Road Tomorrow

I will always regret never knowing the light of your life, the love of your heart.

How I wish I could have been a part of that life,

But I now know it will never be.

I cannot be there for you, within the flesh, only in spirit,

Yet I will do what I can, nothing more or less.

I give you my prayers, to warm you through these cold, empty nights.

I give you my heart, for yours is broken, and love is always needed.

I give you my mind, so you can think clearly on what lies ahead.

I give you my strength, to bear the weight that burdens you so.

I give you my life, if I but could, to replace what has gone missing in your world,

But I cannot, and so you suffer.

The shadows creep along, trying to devour you whole.

Yet in that dark abyss, there is still light and life and love.

Find it, and follow it to new days ahead.

Your world is not over, you will go on.

One day, one step, each brighter than before.

Until there will be only light, the darkness behind you,

Not forgotten, but no longer a threat.

So now, you rest, in this dark night of the soul,

But remember, there is a better road tomorrow

And you do not walk it alone.

Dada: Chapter 10b

     At least he left the seat up.   That never happened once in college, even in our own suites.  It's a little thing. but when there are only guys around, one really should leave it up.  It just make sense.  Although I knew quite a few guys who would just use the sink instead, if just to save time and/or water.  Not me.  Never.  Well, once.  Or twice.
     I fill up the bottle to the top with extra water to help clear it out before dumping it into the toilet.  Then, I do it a second time, just to make sure everything is out before I get rid of the plastic bottle.  I then relieve myself, just to make sure I got everything out.  Using a bottle is just not the right angle for that sort of thing, especially when sitting down.  Then, I flush.  And put the seat down.  All those years living with just my mom drilled that into me.  Besides, Sam will probably need it in the morning.
     I look into the mirror as I wash up.  There I am, in its haggard unshaven glory.  Hardly any stubble.  Took me at least an extra three years before I started shaving.  There's a lighter hair or two mixed in.  I started seeing them when I was twenty-three.  There's a few on my head, too.  My mom joked at me when she saw the first ones.  Really made fun of me, how I was growing old.  She shouldn't have done that.  She shouldn't have done any of that.
    Why did she keep me away?  Running around for years to keep away form him.  Didn't even ask for money.  I needed him.  I still don't get shaving.  I've tried electric and cartridge, and I still can't get the hang of it.  My friends tried to teach me, but they were mostly gone by the time my beard came in.
    Hadn't thought of Jim for awhile now.  He was the first guy to really show me what it was to be a guy.  My other friends' fathers really weren't the type to help me out.  They didn't get too close, but Jim was there for me.  For a few months, then he all but ignored me.  Even when I was with his brother at their home.
   Then they left me.  I tried to get more friends, but I never found anyone who got me like they did.  Maybe I didn't let them try.  Maybe it's me who is broken.  Maybe I shouldn't have anyone else.
   I can't be a father to Sam.  I'm barely old enough to take care of myself.  All those people thinking her's my son today, yesterday.  I am not old enough to be his father.  I am not capable of being his father.  I am not going to be a father, ever.  I am just not going to be anything.
   My mom is right, Sam is not going to be my responsibility.  I can't be the only one who can help him.  I can't be the one who will take care of him.
    I had turned off the water, how long ago?  Staring at my reflection for minutes, maybe longer.  I used to do that all the time.  I really need to get back to bed.  I pick up the 'clean' bottle and unlock the door.  I open it slowly, just in case Sam is asleep.  I don't want to wake him up.
     I turn off the light, but I keep the bottle hidden behind my leg.  There's Sam, sleeping.  Peacefully?  I hope, after all he's been through, especially after I caught him.  The only time I ever got caught was by Jim, but that's another lifetime ago.
      The bed has grown cold since I went in.  I put the bottle on the floor, and try to go back to sleep.

Dada: Chapter 10a

     We leave the restaurant, which was much better than I anticipated.  Four-and-a-half stars, although that rate could have been inflated.  I would only give it four.  Very good, but could be a teeny bit cleaner.  The food was great, though.  Sam could have eaten a whole lot more, but then what teenage boy wouldn't.  Well, I wouldn't have.
    The hotel isn't that far down the same road.  Just a mile or so.  I had looked it, and the restaurant, up at every stop.  Even confirmed the reservation.  Five stars.  Triple checked.  Can't be too careful where you spend the night.
     "Get your bag, and the groceries.  I'll take my computer and the rest," I tell Sam when we stop.  The parking spot is right in front of the hotel, large well-lighted lot.  Just far enough of the highway that the noise won't come to the room.
     "Look's a little small," Sam cracks.  When will his voice stop changing already.  He won't talk unless he has to, and then it's usually a whisper.  I really can't stand it.
     "It has four stories.  It will be fine."
     We trek the short walk through the revolving door, straight to the desk.
     "May I help you?" the woman behind the desk asks.  She is standing perfectly straight, her short frown hair perfectly straight.  Definitely not tired, cheerful in fact.
     "Yes.  We have a reservation for eight, two beds.  Burton, Chris."
     "Okay then," she responds.  She is typing into her keypad, looking at a monitor just below the desk.  "You just made it."  It wasn't even seven thirty yet.  "It looks like everything is in order.  You placed the reservation online this afternoon.. ."
    "Yes.  Can we hurry this along, please?  This bag is getting heavy, and I don't think Sam can hold any more."  He was milling around the empty lobby.  No seats, his bag trying to slip off of his shoulder.
     "I can see.  It won't be much longer," she chuckled.  "I bet you and your son are really in need to get set up tonight."
    "What?  He's my brother, half-brother.  Just taking him back home.  His home."  I stumble out.
     "Look's a lot like you.  Here's your key card.  Room 207.  Do you need any help up the elevator?" she kindly replied, skipping over our missteps.
     "No thank you.  I think we can just manage.  Good night."
    "Good night to you too, sir." she manages to get out as I lead Sam to the elevator to our room.
    "I'm hungry.  No, tired.  Wait, both," Sam whined/yawned on the way up.
    "We just ate, not even an hour ago.  If you're hungry, you can eat some of the stuff in that bad, after you clean up."
    Is this how it is to be a parent, for it doesn't feel right.  It is too simple.  It is too hard.  That response was so not right.
    The doors slide open to an empty hallway.   Judging by the cars in the lot, I'd say the place was half full.  Good.  It would be quieter, and no one would ask about my 'son.'  We don't look that much alike.
    "You clean up first.  If you're still hungry, you can eat as I clean up.  Just don't brush your teeth, yet.  You can hurt your enamel that way.  Wait until afterwards." I admonish him as I open the door.
    "Yes, sir.  Chris.  Whatever." Sam mumbled out in a typical teenage drawl.
    I set up the computer as he goes into the bathroom to clean up.  I take the bed further away from it. Just as I finish setting up, I realize I forgot to ask about the wi-fi password.  I will have to use my phone as a hotspot.  The battery is dying, but it should work, even as it's charging.
     No email from Rick.  Confirmations from the social worker, the hotel, and Yelp for my rating.  Nothing great.  On a hunch, I check Rick's social media accounts.  Right there, on Facebook, a post about his wife going into labor two months early.  The doctors think they can slow the process, but he'll be at the hospital all day.  I really hoped he would have been able to help, but this is more important.  Being a father always is.
   I turn everything off to save power, and to keep Sam from reading anything.  I go in as soon as he gets out.  We go to sleep in under an hour, just before ten.
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     I wake up about two hours later.  I need to get up, now.  Sam is sleeping, so I slip out as silently as I can, without turning on the lights to wake him.  I hobble slowly to the bathroom door.  I kept it open so that there would be less noise.  I really need this, now!  The light switch is just to the left of the door.  I flip in one, just as I enter the bathroom.
      There's Sam.  In front of the toilet.  Turning his head back, looking at me.  Fear is in his eyes.
     "Sorry!"
     I quickly slam the door, and hobble back to my bed.  Knowing at least one thing about teenage boys, he is going to need at least another minute, maybe five or so because of the shock.  I can't really wait that long.  I take one of the empty water bottles.  We were going to recycle them once we left, but I guess reusing one is good too.  It takes me only a short time to fill the bottle with its unintended fluid.  I hide the bottle close to the bed, so Sam won't see it when he leaves.  I get back in bed, pretending to be asleep.
      After about four minutes, maybe six, I hear the flush.  A few seconds later, Sam walks out, slowly and silently.  He doesn't speak, or even look in the direction of my bed.  I wait maybe, two minutes, before I get up.
   "Some of the best advice I ever got was from Jim Greenwood, guy I could call a brother.  He told me that even if you alone in a house, miles away from anywhere, you always, always make sure the door is locked before you do that.  You never know who could walk in.  Remember that, Jack."
    I hide the bottle against my leg as I walk to bathroom, turn on the light, and close the door.  And lock it, loudly.