Good For Me

I'm supposed to be in St. Louis tonight, sitting in the basement with my cold feet tucked under the butt of my old German Shepherd, listening to my saucy sisters yap at each other across the room, to my mother croon at the sound of all of her children home once more, listening to my father close a drawer upstairs, alone, listening to my brother tell it all to his girlfriend on the phone behind the door, he's lying in bed and has flung an arm over his eyes.

But the slick and the snow made it impossible for my airplane to take me there, so I'm here instead, in my own bed, my own room, listening to the wind shower ice against my window in the dark.  I'm not sad to be here and not there, but on Monday morning, when we try again, I want my plane to fly.  

This morning he left for his own Christmas with a back seat full of Cornish Game Hens and sleeping bags, just in case.  I got out of bed when I heard him shuffling around outside my room, and made myself a tuna sandwich for the road while he trotted stuff out to the car.  I focused on the tuna as he finally tucked his scarf into the collar of his coat, and as he stood still by the door, thinking, scanning the room for any one last thing.  

No, everything was ready.  Time to go.  He looked up at me and sheepishly waved. 

"Merry Christmas," he smiled.

  

"Merry Christmas," I waved back, laughing, "And, uh, Happy New Year!"  

I watched him stand there and fiddle with his keys, but I didn't step away from my sandwich.  I held onto the countertop with one hand and waved again.  He waited a moment longer, shook his head smiling, then went out.  

I stood fast.

What did I want to do?  Oh- you know.  Fly across the room.  Throw my arms around him like Christian the Lion.  Say Goodbye, I'll Miss You, Drive Safely, Come Back to Me, Think Of Me When You See Beautiful Things, all those kinds of words said into the collar of a giant overcoat.  Hold that thought for eighteen seconds.  Hold it until you start to breathe again, until you can really feel what it's like in there, in the space of someone else's breathing.  You know.  The things I wanted to do.

But I stood fast instead.

Good.  For.  Me.