Vagabond (Retracing Steps)

img_9804

I’m on a northbound bus headed to a train headed for home.

When I get near Sacramento I will look out the window towards the east.

Somewhere in a trailer that may or may not be hooked up

is my sister. And a man she found to take her in.

I have no address. No way to reach her.

Even if I could reach her.

Last time I texted her was on her birthday at the end of March.

She was a week or two sober and 38 and I said I hope this is a better year for you.

No shit. She texted back. Somewhere under there the humor

She was going to go see someone. Get help. Get in the system.

Sign on the line that says I need help.

That line family members can’t sign on

but we wait on that line helplessly hoping

that our siblings our children will sign off on their own need.

She never did.  She was convinced it meant locking her up.

No key. No way out. She’d rather be free.

So she’s out there somewhere.

Tearing it up after a recent drunk.

A year come and gone like no time at all.

Advertisements

About margaretelysiagarcia

Margaret Elysia Garcia primarily writes fiction, essays and poetry from a remote corner of the Sierra Nevada. She's currently working on a non-fiction book about body positivity through plus-sized alternative modeling .She blogs here and at Throwing Chanclas. And is the co-founder of Pachuca Productions a Latina owned microtheatre in Plumas County, California
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s