summer

Some days my mind thinks I’m still 34 on a fresh start from a sixteen year marriage newly ended. My body reminds me, that was nineteen years and over 3 degrees ago. When I…wanted, when I was…proving myself to that girl still digging out of a concrete foundation of low self-worth that was mother’s gaslighting. Now, my heart longs for those summers in the yard where I escaped to the sleepy drone of the cicada and the sun quickened my heart to an empathetic thrum in the heat.

love is a doing word

Down to the wire, I’m sore and exhausted, overwhelmed with the giving, selling, gifting, donating, and trashing, the parting with things I sometimes struggled to purchase in the first place, financially or emotionally. I am not in my bed familiar where the time between lovers grew until they were recollections. I am not in my house haunted with wonderings of the years and hours of those who lingered, meandered day and night before me. I feel I am…”not” for I am in a place void of history and seeped in transient comings and goings, one foot in, one foot out. Mostly, I no longer hear the pattering of feet, the scratching of nails on wood and tile. That was the thing that meant life was good. That is the thing I need to get back to. 

Massive Attack ~ “Teardrop”