October 23: Glowing Pumpkins, Nate Pritts, "Forever War"

My daughter now has her driver's license.  I will go pick her up from dance class in a few minutes, and I will let her drive home.  Then I will let her take my car to go to her boyfriend's house, tell her to be home by ten o'clock.

It's hard letting go.  There's another aspect of parental control that is simply slipping through my fingers.  I know that I will stand on my front porch and watch her disappear down the street.  I will be surrounded by Halloween decorations.  Glowing pumpkins and skulls.  Spiderwebs.  Strings of colored maple leafs.

My daughter and I have been putting up those same decorations since she was a little girl.

Saint Marty isn't ready to see his daughter drive away.

Forever War

by: Nate Pritts

In studying the anomaly
it was determined that holiday decorations
look sad out of season,
that there's no excuse for the mistakes
of my people.  Red paper hearts
on the front door into April,
a cauldron that doubles as a planter
in summer.  Always the starscape
to help keep me honest, to remind me
that distance is easy to cross.
The analytic belt I'm equipped with
reminds me of an indescribable autumn
from one hundred generations ago
though even last year
I was someone else.
I was faced with a choice.
Proceed with the same core
or blow it up to restart
& maybe go further.  Most of my programming
has survived into this new battle.
I can smell faint ocean
salt on the breeze & I have different
reactions for its presence or absence.
Now is the time to overcome problems.
I debate the finer points of being desperate,
of wanting things to remain
as they are, though they can't.
I'd rather not go into details
since specifics make me queasy,
like in pictures when people put their heads
too close together.  How can they stand
such forced intimacy?
I take off in search of my home planet.
My resolve is stronger than ever.