An Extra Toothbrush Poem by maggie signaigo

Every morning she still makes coffee
But she doesn’t drink it herself
She’s careful to add just the right amount
And puts the can back on the shelf.

She pays the car insurance
Although she does not drive
She calls her friends to take her places
And waits ‘til they arrive.

And there is a chair she will not sit in
She just stares at it instead
There’s an extra toothbrush in the bathroom
And she sleeps on half the bed.

Some nights I hear her telling him
All she did that day
Then she pauses for a measured while
As if to hear what he had to say.

She wears her hair the way he liked
And the earrings he liked best
And her wedding band is on her finger
Or she’s not fully dressed.

She tells me what he would have ordered
Whichever restaurant we choose
His favorite dessert and how much he would tip
Some memories you cannot lose.

And she looks at me…or maybe right thru me
She checks the driveway or the back lawn
Looking for something…someone she loves
And just will not accept that he’s gone.