The Walk – First of Many

For an hour, the snow
had been falling. I looked
across the parking lot beyond
to the winter bare cherry trees
that sat at the top of the
hill and overlooked
the pond at the base.  I left
my desk to walk for my lunch
break, to visit the trees, bleak
and bare until spring.
Somehow he knew I would be
out, unable to resist
the lure of the snow.
He smiled and asked where? and I
pointed with my chin across the
white covered lot, to inky trees
beyond.  No words between us, just
the crunch of our shoes on the snow
and near silent swish of the falling snow.
Under the trees, he reached up
and delicately touched buds on the branches.
“Deep pink” in answer to his unasked
question.  “Will you go home for hanami?”
Hunching in his coat, he was silent.

The snow fell upon his black hair and
the cashmere of his coat.
“Home?  Where is home for me?
Where I buried my wife and son and
Where the wave washed away their graves?
Where my house was washed away?
Under these trees
is home enough for now.”
The branches caught small clumps of snow.
I smiled at him and touched
the clumps of snow caught in the branches.
“Look, winter cherry blossoms.”
In the clean winter air, I caught the scent of his
aftershave – Astor.
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply
and then looked into his eyes,
Coffee brown, almond shaped, grief dimmed.
“I need to go back to work”..I added,
“Home?  Home is where your memories
take you and you feel at peace or whether beneath
these trees, or in a building, or home is where
you are loved, in spite of yourself.  Home is
where you make it.”  He smiled.
“Then here is home, my friend.”

I walked away and then turned around.
Tall and thin, alone under the trees,
He stood with his face to the sky
his eyes closed, tears of snow on his cheeks.