Mom loves to hear the South Pole phone calls.
That’s where Dad makes sure all the proper
pieces will fit together, working from Dove Valley, now more
precisely his home in a suburb south of Denver.
I had a world map with pins in it for all the pen pals I had
as a teenager. I miss that reverence for geography, the
tranquility of letters exchanged. My palm over paper.
One pin in New York state. I didn’t dream
up someone who would have spent a life there
and fall in love with me as much as you, didn’t know what
I wanted from anyone, even myself, or from the idea of love.
I knew places I wanted to travel to. Some were pinned. Some
I might only call.
Back in my bedroom with the yellow painted walls, I didn’t know
anyone then or now reaching out to me from
the South Pole yet sometimes it could almost be you are that far away.