Twenty Four

I remember when my parents first left. They drove off
with me standing in the middle of a parking lot, unpaved
to make for easy future clean up of the toxic waste beneath.
My stomach was feeling queezy, as though I just chowed
down a full McDonald's happy meal, and never even got
my free toy. I was ready to face my new life, miles from
home, but what seems to have gotten me the most was
the easy with which the caravan of vehicles drove off.
Sure there were tears and fatherly hugs, but when the
truck door slammed, it seems as though I was out of mind.

Today, as that same truck door slammed, those memories
flooded back. Sitting on the steps to my apartment building
I watched a trip cut short due to bad weather. Only another
month before I make the trip home. Time held over by a
twenty four hour visit from my parents. Somehow I am
still missing the toy from my happy meal.