See The Buddha, Kill The Buddha

I can see you and you’re forty years younger than you were the last time we met. I’m crying cause I know I’m leaving and I don’t want to go. You’ve still got that red hair and it’s long and straight. Judging by how you look, I should be five. I’m craning my neck to look at you. I’m forty four and you’re just huge now, looking down at me.

“How was your day Phil?”



“I fell on something sharp.”

“Do you need a doctor?”

“I don’t think it will help.”

“Oh, I’m sorry do you want me to get you a band-aid?”

“No, no Mom.”

I stop, the words keep dying before I can speak them. I know I have to say them.

“Mother, I don’t need you anymore.”

“Son, I was changing your diapers not four years ago.”

“It’s been forty three, I just seem to default to you as I knew you when I was five.”

“That doesn’t mean you can just leave me.”

“I have to leave and where I’m going I can’t carry you with me.”

“Does your father know?”

“Dad does, Robert does, Eloise does, even Carl does.”

“So am I the last to know?”

“As always, I was scared to tell you.”

“You’re a sweet boy but be god damned, you always were a coward.”

“I know Mom.”

“Have fun.”

“I’ll try.”

You fade away and I’m soon to follow. Saw my mother, killed my mother. I can check that off my to do list. Never thought of myself as a Buddhist till now, hope they have a good retirement plan. Here I go.