the great shift

He sits
with disappointed eyes
among my boxed things.
He knows
I'm leaving,
but something tells me
she doesn't -
the way she
pushes forward
making things fit,
asking
for help,
following a script.

Last time I was here,
things were different.
Now, thrice removed,
it has come again.
The great shift
of life,
categorized and
labeled.
Removing one home
to try and make another.
Leaving echoes
of existence that
sound out a fear
of letting go.

There's thunder
in the distance.
Rattling where
lasts transform firsts,
where routes
diverge,
and years spent
tending
and creating
memories
wash away
with each
step
towards 3511.

She knows now, too.
And the silence
of divide
is overwhelming.