Pooh Sticks For One

I had dinner alone tonight, dear heart, as I do most nights. Alone, if you don’t count waitresses and busboys. I suppose I should count them for company, after all, many are friendly and nice to me, and what more could I ask?

Some asked about you, and I realized I missed you, terribly.

When I arrived home tonight, I wanted to go for a walk. The rains had stopped and the setting sun was nestling greenily amongst the trees lining the stream and path across the way. I knew what I was going to do.

Pooh Sticks, at the bridge, and I could daydream of your laugh…

A stream runs through us...

Except for the traffic noise, it was birdsongs and the murmur of water. I looked about for some sticks, and laughed to remember you scampering down the path, on the bank, looking for twigs and rocks and leaves. Your enthusiasm warms me up.

Cast into the stream, the echoes of “Look, daddy, look!”

I toss the first stick. My heart lands in the water, to recall your laugh.

So quickly, the twigs and leaves fall…

The stream was running a little high tonight, as were my thoughts of you, Wee Lass.

Pooh Stick gets away so quickly…

I closed my eyes, and for a moment, I could see you, hear you, and I felt so alone without you, your laughter and those rose window eyes. I stayed there on the bridge, and began to smile. Like the water flowing beneath my feet, this too shall pass. You and I will play Pooh Sticks, and grin like ‘possums under the canopy of trees.

It is not the same stream twice, but we share the water…