“This key unlocks the outside door,” I say,
holding up the one with the purple key cover.
“The yellow and green keys unlock the deadbolt,”
holding up the key, “and the lock on the bottom.”
“Sure, Mom, no problem,” he says, taking them from me
and casually putting them in his pocket. “Don’t lose them,”
I say as he kisses me goodbye. He mentally maps the side trips
he’ll make before heading back to his own apartment.
Alone in mine, I stare at the four walls in my living room.
Their bareness represents my freedom recently won in court.
And though my son doesn’t call me often enough,
there are plenty of people I talk to all the time.
If something bad happens one day and they don’t
hear from me in due time, they can always call my son.
He has the keys to open my doors
and they will find me, eventually.
© Sweepy Jean and Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World, 2013