Waiting

             “I get jealous just thinking of all the fun you’ll have while I’m stuck in this dreary old house.”   His mother bit the top of the pen and squinted at Camp Geronimo’s paperwork.  “Oh, to be 11 years old again!"

            Jonah’s fingers curled around the seat cushion.  Already he could feel that funny tight feeling in his chest, and it was only March.  “I don’t want to go," he told her.

            “Of course you do.  Do you want me to sign you up for woodworking again, dear?  That bowl you made last year was wonderful.  I get compliments on it every time I bring it to one of my bridge meetings”

            “I didn’t make it.  Jack made it for shop class.”

            “It works so well for salads,” she answered, and checked the box next to crafts.

If you could grieve

if you could let the 

trickle turn into

a roar

then could you 

tell me what this 

loss was for