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She noted, more than once, that the meteor shower was happening, beyond the overcast sky, even if we could not see it. Who cares if she can kiss? She can see through the clouds.
It was only after reading every journal entry that I noticed the ones about me began with quotes from The Tempest. I felt like I was invading his privacy, but it was a public blog, and spending time with his writing felt like spending time with him, only not as scary. So I clicked over to the poems section.
The first one went:
My mother's footsteps
Were so quiet
I barely heard her leave.
Another:
You must never let truth get in the way of beauty,
Or so e. e. cummings believed.
"This is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart,"
He wrote of love and longing.
That often got him laid I'm sure,
Which was the poem's sole intent.
But gravity differs from affection:
Only one is constant.
And then the first poem, written on the same day as the first journal entry, two weeks after his father's disappearance.
He carried me around my whole life--
Picked me up, took me here and there, said
Come with me. I'll take you. We'll have fun.
We never did.
You don't know a father's weight
Until it's lifted.
As I reread the poem, my phone buzzed. Davis. Hi.
Me: Hi.
Him: Are you on my blog right now?
Me: . . . Maybe. Is that okay?
Him: I'm just glad it's you. My analytics said someone from Indianapolis has been on the site for 30 minutes. I got nervous.
Me: Why?
Him: I don't want my terrible poems published in the news.
Me: Nobody would do that. Also stop saying your poems are terrible.
