Goodbye Thomas

In 2013, after years of practice, Thomas Mellon finally flew.

Where are you?

I am empty.  It is cold.  The snow has stopped falling but there is no one here to enjoy it.  The floors creak but not from your footsteps.  My pipes are empty.  The lake, my only companion, sleeps.  The loons have forsaken me.  Even the joyous evergreens bring no amusement.  Won't you come home?

I need a fire in my belly.  Smoke in the attic.  I need your touch on my doornobs.  A song in the shower.  I long for the feel of fresh sheets and a good cleaning.  I am dusty.  To hear a laugh, a sigh, a whisper.  Won't you come home?

I am brave.  I will wait.  I have done so for others.  And they cooked better meals.  They sang better and louder than you.  They never slammed the screen doors.  Their voices trilled over the water like wood-fairies do.  They were imaginative, strong-willed, solid.
Where are you?  Won't you come home?