this is the year

this is the year, 

she tells me.
this is
the year i quit, retire
and start my next life.

she's been saying this for
five years now.

she looks off into the distance
as we talk,
quiet for a moment.

there is nothing but air

between us.

maybe i'll travel, she says,
as if the idea just came into
her mind.

see the country. see the world.
i look at her.

she's tired.
she's lonely.
she's lost. her cat jumps

into her lap,

knowingly.

i've never seen the grande
canyon, she says.

maybe i'll go there.

why not, i tell her. why not?