Word of the Day - Possibility

It’s only a pos­si­bil­ity that I might be home soon, and that you might be there when I arrive. Possible…but I know it won’t hap­pen, because I’ll end up walk­ing from the air­port to your house — an hour and a half jour­ney all told, and I’ll be alone, in the snow, with my bags, because you won’t come pick me up even though I know you want to see me too, or so you say — and then I’ll stand on the out­side steps and ring the bell, the way I did so long ago when we first met. And it’s pos­si­ble you’ll be inside, but I’m tak­ing bets that it’s your mother who answers the door. She and I got along so well dur­ing all the times you weren’t home, and maybe she’ll offer me my spot on the futon in the liv­ing room again, and I’ll pre­tend it’s like old times, except we’re both a lit­tle older, and you won’t remem­ber me anymore.