Tea Leaves

Tea Leaves

The house seemed so small.
Yet here in my memory as a child
so very long ago it was always huge.
I walk through the rooms .
Familiar as they always were.

I can almost hear your voice
Calling me to the table.
Or to get ready for bed.

The packing had almost finished
Everything in boxes that would
never be opened again.

In your old kitchen I pack the
dinnerware that had had carried
our sustenance until I was an adult.
Piece by piece
I carefully place them in the box.

Then I find your tea cup
The one you used faithfully
each day of your life.
It still had a single tealeaf
Dried and on the rim.
Where your lips had been.

That is when the grief hit me
as it had never done before.