Lavender Memories

Momma wrapped her scarf tighter
kissed his freckles,
still dark from the summer sun
and hugged him tight.
He smelled the soapy cleanness of her neck,
the faint aroma of lavender perfume she wore
and the dryer sheets she'd put in with the last load of laundry.

Her battered leather suitcase
stood by his feet
her hat was in one hand
as she held him tight for the last time.
The conductor blew his whistle
and the steamy, dingy depot
echoed with the sound.

Momma bent down
and whispered in his ear
sweet lies about her return.
He knew she was lying,
yet his heart ached to believe it was the truth.
Her lavender scent wafted gently towards him
as she promised him false words.

She stands erect,
and tells him to make her proud.
She pats him, kisses him again,
then turns and boards the train.
She does not look back.

He waves shyly as the train pulls away
Momma bound for distant lands
and never to return.
She'll never live with him, laugh with him,
never cook for him and his father again.
He hears and knows the pain deep in his heart.

As he leaves the station,
a faint train whistle echoes across the treetops
and settles in his ears.
As his father lifts him into the truck
unrepentant for not bidding Momma farewell
he tastes a faint strain of lavender
on the breeze.

Smoke rises from the train tracks
and the truck rattles on down the dirt road
as tears roll down his face.


Momma.