The Adopted Daughter At Last Comes Home

by Chris Weygandt Alba

She arrives on a jet from Wichita.

She throws her baggage in a heap

and lights a cigarette. She waits.

One hip juts out. One elbow leans

on the railing.

 

She can’t believe she is waiting.

All her life she has waited

for this homecoming.

It is preposterous that

she is kept waiting some more.

 

She flicks an ash. Her nerves

are strung like guitar strings.

Crap sticks out of her luggage

helter-skelter as if she were

too hurried to pack.

 

What kind of woman would

leave her child waiting?

A sense of doom tightens her throat.

This may have been a big mistake.

She exhales ferociously.

 

She watches the moving crowd.

They detour around the cigarette.

Eff you, she thinks.

Oh god she has waited forever

and she can’t bear any of this.

 

A car screeches to a halt.

Out leaps a woman.

“I would know you anywhere,”

she cries. “I’ve waited all your life.”

She scoops the girl into her arms.

 

The eternal waiting finally ends.

They both burst into tears.

My mother! thinks the girl

My baby! thinks the woman.

At last they meet, and claim each other.

 COMMENTS

Chris Weygandt Alba is a journalist living on the central coast of California. A former editor on the staff of several magazines, she now writes essays and interviews for a small community publication. She’s an award-winning gardener and writer of ultra-short fiction as well as a poet. She met her first born daughter, who had been given up at birth, a few years ago when her daughter was 21.

1 Response to “The Adopted Daughter At Last Comes Home”


  • Ahhhhh, so that is what poetry is about! Telling a story that goes on telling long after … Or is it the use of a device that captures the essence of the subject’s nature in the telling tension of event that marries the tension of the subject to the protagonist? Or both? And much more. And in such lively dynamic. Good waiting takes time.

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