Recognition

I had a dream about you last night, mama.

I dreamt you were wearing your favorite shade of green.

Your hair was dark brown and curly,

Your eyes, a warm, familiar hazel.

You sat on the couch—the old one we used to have at the trailer.

Your capri-covered legs crossed at the knee.

I walked into the living room

And there you were

Smiling and

laughing and

joking.

A song always just a moment away.

You were doing all the things I miss the most.

And when I walked in, you turned to me.

The crows feet around your eyes weren’t as deep as I remember,

But definitely still there.

Well, there you are…

And I couldn’t believe it.

The person I’ve been missing the most had been missing me too.

Maybe that’s what I’ve been afraid of, too.

The chance that you aren’t missing me.

That you’re just pieces in the ground.

That you’re not still a part of me.

But that smile—oh that smile

It told me all I needed.

Because you were there

And you missed me

And you recognized me.

And now I’m feeling you again.