The Homecoming Queen

The Homecoming Queen

I was cleaning the attic one day

When I came across an old familiar shoebox.

This is the house my father built.

This is the house where I grew up.

This is the house where years of childhood

And adolescence I spent.

As I rummaged through the photos

I came across something which I didn’t

Think belonged there, a handkerchief.

It had a note attached to it--the day I got married.

It was my mother’s and as I sifted through the memories

In my mind, I saw her sitting there silently

Behind my bridesmaid, wiping tears from her eyes.

My husband took me away to where we started life together

And there was little time to say goodbye

To friends and family, and very seldom

Did I take the time to see them.

There were Christmases and Thanksgivings

When my parents came to visit but no often than the number

Of fingers in my hand. The something that took me

To strange places, from base to base around the world—

A wedding band.

The white across the finger is now no more.

I was the homecoming queen in a ritual

They performed for me—my sorority sisters.

The wedding ring was thrown to the fire and we shouted

“Freedom!” and here I am. And here I am to stay.

Aida Norgren De Los Reyes  May 24, 2009