Page 21 - Solstice Art & Literary Magazine 2021

BLACK TREE • JAMES MCGANN
Watercolor • 20”x16”
MEMORIES
OF AN
OLD FRIEND
HEATHER RASLAN
Dear friend,
old friend,
I am paying close attention to the trees this time of year,
I want to find the beginning of a new life.
I always miss it,
but this year I am determined not to.
There are small redbuds at the ends of trees,
so small you might think that your eyes are play- ing tricks on you.
The buds remind me of you,
and your April birthday.
Chicago spring is strange;
it snows and blossoms at the same time.
Two springs ago,
we took you to dinner.
Do you remember?
You loved the food.
The blur of a kaleidoscope focuses
in one day.
You’re used to something,
and then suddenly it has all changed.
It always surprised me that I missed it. Now when I pay attention,
the signs become clear.
You only miss what you don’t look for.
One spring ago,
you talked about the places you were going. The places we could come to see you.
We would go anywhere to see you.
You don’t look for betrayal.
So when it comes,
you haven’t seen the signs.
You don’t see the redbuds.
This spring you are blossoming, without me.
But I’m tired of missing the coming of spring. I’m tired of missing the signs so evident in red.
So I am looking on my own, at other blossoming leaves. Watching the spring. Finally.
It snows in the spring in Chicago,
Do you miss me this spring?
You always loved the snow.
Are you too busy watching the redbuds like me?
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