Flying Back

I don't want to be the girl crying at the airport

Or crying on the plane.

I don't want to burst into tears the minute I see my uncle

Or pull up to the house.

But I feel the well of sadness threatening to wash over me

And spill from my eyes.

Maybe I'm just tired, emotional from stress,

Or maybe it's facing the Truth that

I'm going to a place that's a little Changed.

Changed in a way that's different from the aftermath of the hurricane.

We had our own hurricane

Run throught the family,

And a family without their matriarch is

A mapless ship on a starless night.

I realize my place as a woman now;

In her void, we all shift places, and I go from

Cared-For to Care-Giver.

My heart has cared before,

I've always assumed these roles,

But temporarily with friends,

When there was a Promise of Escape.

Now it's a lifetime role,

The understudy to my mother

Who was the understudy to her own before her.

I realize I've been her understudy my whole life,

Taking careful note of how to be

The Maker of Lists both physical and mental,

The Crying Shoulder and Sympathetic Ear,

The Gentle Scolder and Giver of Tough Love,

The Keeper of All Birthdays and Important Dates,

The Giver-Upper and The Sacrificer,

The Thinker-Of-Others and Whatever-You-Wanter.

I've been in denial

But I've been gearing up for Womanhood for a while.

And maybe I'm sad

Because I can't go back.