The Gala

She came back in
and quietly closed the door.
She knelt to pet the dog.
She went and unloaded the dishwasher
completely – even the dishes
that weren’t hers.

“Are there any apples?”
She asked.
“Check the fridge.”
She sat near the couch
where I made sure
not to look at her directly
and crunched on the Gala.

“Can we watch that dancing show
tonight?”
She asked.
She’d always complained about it before.
“I don’t see why not,”
I said.
The TV spoke the rest of the night
instead of either of us.

I never asked
where she’d been the last three days.
You might think
I wasn’t very forthcoming, but
I didn’t want to spook her.
I was just so glad
she was home.

She was gone again
in three months time.
Would she have stayed
had I been more expressive?
I’ll ask her
if she ever comes back.

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