by G. Alexis Page

Created on: February 19, 2007   Last Updated: May 14, 2007

Travel Log (For My Father)

Shovels, pails,
The making of
Sand castles
Amy & Trudy,
Jinks,
That wonderful old dog.
How I hated watching them
From the window,
While a nameless nanny
Would pack my bags.
I wished it would
Rain.

The sound of jet engines
Sometimes
Wakes me from my sleep.
Duffel bags being dragged,
Across the airport floor
Nanny holding my hand
While we tagged along
Behind you,

So handsome and tall,
So towering tall
And
All that green.

The gold bars
on your shoulders
Sparkled
In the sun.
Light,
Vividly bounced
Off the leather
Of your spit shined
Shoes.
Always at attention,
Always saluting,
Me.

She would remain,
At the bottom of the stairs.
She,
Never boarded the plane.

I pressed my face
Against the window.
Waved good-bye
To a woman
Who had no name,
To a place,
Where not
A single street sign
Would be
Remembered.

You,
Sitting there,
Stern and formidable,
Eyes closed
In sleep and silence.
While the familiar humming
Of jet engines,
Put us once again
Into dreams.

New faces I met
Last week,
Seem nothing more
Than a repeat
Of faces of the
Past three months.
New cities and streets
I will walk in,
Will be nothing
More
Than an empty desert
to me.

Outside the window,
Clouds swirl, rolling
Bleak and full
Of desolation.
The coolness
Of their white
Blankly stares back
At me.
What are you dreaming
of?
Sparks fly,
Vapors of burning rubber.
Landing gear thumps
Against the runway.
Our eyes open.

Outside the window,
At the bottom of
The stairs,
Another she stands.
Waiting, faceless
And nameless.
Your massive hand
Lifts my chin,
Makes a smile
On my face
With your fingers.
"We're Home now Honey!"

Germany, Aruba,
Istanbul, South America.
Another terminal,
Another stop.
One more
Nanny

And,
All that green.

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