ONLY

Time to read, paint, imagine.
A room of my own with a door
that lead to another world.

Quiet and peaceful.
My belongings were mine
and in order.

I pushed a refrigerator box
into the living room and
lived in it for a week.

I picked my favorite toys
to join me in my special retreat.
I cut out a door so I could emerge
for meals.

My flashlight illuminated
the box for reading and playing.
I didn’t want a window,
for fear of intrusion.

Someone might see into my hide-away
and all the way into my thoughts.
I knew how to entertain myself.
I talked to my Howdy Doody puppet
and pretended it was my brother.

We traveled and the car’s back seat
was mine, to spread out and dream
and drift off to sleep.
The back seat was mine for too many years.

I realized that no one would join our tiny family.
There would be no brothers or sisters for me.
I finally got tired of asking my parents
and hearing them say, “no.”

Loneliness became a physical pain.
I dreamt that I was holding a baby brother.
I would awaken in my big bed , sad and disappointed.
The pillow I hugged, wet with tears.

To this day, I am an only with a difficult mother.
No one to share her care.
No one to share a history.
No one
but me.