I have this gift,
also a curse,
where I can see deep into the future,
just after a loved one has died.
I can know the profound loss
of laughing at jokes that weren’t funny,
or trading word puzzles back and forth,
long before the grief is there.
I can feel the ache of dying
for just one last whiff of peanut butter and coffee,
or even the scratch of a paw on my arm.
I can mourn when I see a flower,
knowing the day will come when my
grandmother can’t name it for me.
It’s a special gift,
because I don’t forget to
take my mother half-sweet, half-unsweet tea
or watch my husband breathe in his sleep.
But I’d love to have a day
where I don’t wonder when someone