A space like vacuum

I wait for him to step out, turn expectant at the first creak of the door.

The first sense of vacuum for it is not him.

The second time it opens, I hold neither hope nor doubt.

He walks down; I hold out what to him is material and to me a silent gesture of affection, gratitude….a whirl of emotions to be read in any order.

I hear the words of formality…I conceal too much for him to even sense it was not materiality I held.

I don’t turn back…A long time ago when summer vacations ended my best cousin taught me that it is important not to turn back when the departure is painful.

We always meet in a space between a hello and a bye.

We always leave in  a space between heaven and earth.

A space like vacuum.