Hearkening back to a simpler time when we could meet freely at restaurants with each other, this poem from Carlinda D’Alimonte carries a double meaning. From her 2018 collection of poetry Morning Song, about the loss of her sister, “Meetings” memorializes those small moments in life we sometimes take for granted.
Purse over my shoulder
on my way out the door, I announce,
“I’m meeting my sister for lunch,”
loving the sound of the word sister.
I drive to meet her at our favourite place, leaning
my elbow out the open window, let wind
toss my hair. Arriving
I shake it into place,
scan the street
for her beige Pontiac, then see it ease
to stop a few cars down. I watch
as she steps out into the hot sun, eyes squinting. This
is my sister, lifting her head to search
me out until our eyes lock and we smile.
Arms spreading, we hug for a moment – familiar smells
in the air. We turn toward the restaurant,
my hand on her shoulder. This is something
we’ve done forever, will do forever, walk
into places alive with the din of people talking,
places we can talk and talk about flowers
we’ve planted, the lives of our children,
the current colour of our souls
like each word has been spoken, understood
for the first time.