I wish I could forget all the details.

Close to the surface of my memories of Christmas
is the memory of running to a doorway in thin stockings
while you came in from the cold
and I felt the moisture on your cheek from when you had shaved.

I wish I could forget the way your jacket settled around me,
as we bowed our head and ran for the car.
The smell of your soap and shampoo sticking to the collar,
and pulling me closer to you because it smells like home.

I wish I couldn't remember this as I walk now,
from a different house. To a different car,
with only my own arms hugging my torso.
Those memories make this moment not enough.

Followed by purposeful thoughts that declare - I miss you,
and I know you don't miss me.