Touching the Moon

...after the divorce another level of suffering begins...

Touching the Moon

Clutching her yellow blanket

I offered to carry her doll

up the bricked driveway,

an eternity to the door.

“Forty-eight hugs and kisses,”

she said

I counted as I hugged and kissed her:

“1, 2, 3, 4, 46, 47, 48.”

“That’s not 48,” she laughed,

then serious- 

“I don’t want you to live

in an apartment.

Stay here,” she pleaded.

“Your mom and I just argue

sweetheart.”

With five year old wisdom

She replied,

“Stop arguing.”

Persistent,

“I want to stay at your place

tonight Dad.”

“Your mom needs you too.

We are only two sleeps apart

we’ll see each other then.”

“We can walk the river bank

and cross over to the island.  

The river level is down, or

play dolphins in the pool.

I promise”...and my heart broke.

Tears quickly welled, and cascaded

over her trembling chin and she hugged my leg

and would not let go.

Stretching skyward, taking her tiny hand in mine,

with arched fingers as if to touch

the pointy crescent.

We touched the moon.

“Ouch!

It’s sharp,” and she almost laughed.

In hushed tones,

Gently squeezing her hand

I spoke:

“Your mom is waiting

the wind is cool now.

Go inside.”

I crouched low and 

we hugged tightly.

“Remember, “I love you to hyper space

across the Great Wall of China,

around the moon

and back again...

I said, “Good-bye” and quickly

walked away.