Parking Fairy

for Georgann, of course

How many times did you have to forgive me?
How many times did I have to forgive myself
for my judgmental thoughts, for the minor
irritations I must have conveyed to you?
Far too many, I think, now that you’re gone.

Though just yesterday, coming down N Street,
I didn’t have to summon the Parking Fairy,
the one you graciously bequeathed to loved ones.
“Help me find a space, Parking Fairy,” you’d say.
And the goddess of vehicle positioning would,
every time—except when you hung from
the rearview the little sprite I’d found,
a poor representation of the spirit who made
sure there was always a space for you.

“I think she feels replaced,” you said, removing
the imposter, and, thus placated, the Parking Fairy
returned you to her good graces.

“You don’t want to piss off the Parking Fairy,”
you liked to say.

How many times did you have to return me
to your good graces? To forgive my overly
busy life that too often kept me from you,
the unasked-for advice, the thoughtless
comment made in jest that landed badly,
the trespasses I never realized I’d made?

Yesterday, I didn’t ask for your help,
Parking Fairy, because you seem to provide
an open space whenever I need one now,
though your time on the meter has expired.
You’re still finding me places to land, much
as you did when we journeyed together—
you who forgave me, believed in me,
navigated my weary self to the surface
now and then to catch a breath—
who accompanied me on this voyage
as good friends do,
who travels with me still.

Georgann Turner and Diego at my house, Dec. 12, 2016

About janishaag

Writer, writing teacher, editor
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