Race

 

He would have been there.  Sooner than there.

He would have driven me there, walked me to the start line, held my things while porta pottying, gone back for my coat I decided not to bring, held my stretching leg, reminded me to start my tracker, kissed me blessings and joy, and promised to be there.

He would have camerad my finish, woo hooed my pace, medaled my neck, caught my relieved tears, and swung me off my tired legs.  He would have been there.  Sooner than there.

He would have listened to race talk:  the slip I nearly took, the gels I forgot, the racer along side me, the killer hill over the bridge.  He would have been there. 

Others were there.  A dear friend.  A blessing daughter.  ...He wasn't there.  For some reason I looked for him, on the rope, through the crowd, beside the snack table, at the finish line.  He wasn't there.

But he would have been there.