moving away to new places
and losing what became like a home,
only to recognize that it was always just a house.
some things stay the same
like the food i can get at the grocery store
and my dog sleeping in my bed,
but most of it doesn’t
and i don’t quite know how to grasp that sometimes.
i want transformation
and i want to grow,
but losing anything good in the process breaks my heart.
i see now that it is impossible not to.
that i have lost friends and loved ones
to distance that is physical or emotional.
you, and him and her.
i’m sitting in my new apartment
looking out the window at the trains going by,
thinking this is so peaceful,
it makes me cry,
because this view
means something new.
and i’m not quite ready to feel so uneasy again.
he leaned over the stair railing, crying.
“there is somebody up here. can you please come up here?”
“no,” she said.
“there is nobody up there.”
“you’re letting the worry win.”
it was the most profound thing i’ve ever heard a sixth grader say.
“don’t let the worry win.”
an old camera rests on the desk,
with an attachable flash on the top
ready to take a picture of the petals when they open,
ready to watch the world through its lens.
the room is lit just enough
so that you can see the outline of colors around you,
but not enough
that you feel the heaviness of day.
the nervous system
as calm as a lake,
while tsunamis are brewing in the ocean.
“don’t do this.”
“don’t do that.”
“be like this.”
who are we supposed to be
i don’t really know.
other than entitled.
the generation of lazy children
taking too long to become adults.
but what about the positives?
they never seem to matter as much.
the most reliable friends we have.