by Ethel Mortenson Davis
the odds and ends
of the house in the car—
along with the plants and dog.
She wanted to leave
at noon, but he wanted
more time to say goodbye
to his friends.
They left at 6.00 P.M.
No one was there
to say goodbye
after twenty-five years.
They pulled out onto the Interstate
towards Duluth- a six hour drive.
They waved goodbye
and also said some
to “Their Town.”
A semi was following
and pulled up alongside.
He rolled down his window
and hollered goodbye—
Then waved again.
14 responses to “The Move”
Makes me wonder who the guy in the Semi was.
He really was a stranger! Thanks Russ L. Love Ethel
Sounds kind of sad, Ethel.
Yes and no. Love Ethel
One never knows where one’s true well-wishers may appear in life!
That’s a funny idea. Thank you Granbee. Love Ethel
I’ve had this experience… of leaving a home for someplace new… bittersweet, and maybe a bit frightening. My guess is the trucker inferred from the packed up car and maybe the out of state plates that you were moving. Great poem about a special experience. Steve
Thank you for this comment. Love Ethel
Twenty five years and no one showed up… I think moving was a good idea? 🙂
Oh, yes. Love Ethel
Ethel, This poem resonated with me at this time as I am at the very beginning of the process of moving after 25 years of living here in Ferntree Gully.
Your home has a sadness about it so I don’t know how welcome your move was.
I was glad to move. I felt Duluth, MN was my home. I feel that the high desert is my home. If i can see the sky and walk in the earth-it is my home. Love Ethel
Nothing is ever left uncompleted; anything truly significant will resurface. For ill or for benefit, it is yours and travels with you, whatever mask it wears.
Personally, I am glad you poetic skills will travel with you, and as ever I remain grateful.
Ah, one of those moments when a stranger isn’t … perhaps even an ‘angel’ among us.