An Ode to You

Here I am, coming back again, four years older, a little less wise. 

In the journey of finding yourself, what happens if you lose track and decide to recreate yourself?

A lot of that in the last few years. Moments were waiting. The sun stretched out its hand for me. I was so scared the sun could burn me that I spent my life in the dark.

Then there was you. Not just one you. A metaphorical you. A figurative approach of gratefulness to those who carried me and still do. I was a casket on a flowerbed. I was awakened by the sirens wailing. I was told that one day spring will make some flowers bloom. I couldn’t miss that, how dare I? I didn’t know the flowers were blooming underneath me all the time. After all, I was just a casket.

But then there was you. A single true you. A you that made me gather the flowers and toss them around like a toddler. A you that made me think that for a moment the rays of sun were within my reach. Something tangible. Something between us. A connection may be? No, more. An intertwining. A lovely, lovely bloom. All that time I wasn’t the casket, I was in the casket.

To love with the marrow of your bone. To wish things went they way you wanted them to. To struggle to write those feelings down. Then a stretch of silence and you become ready to talk. You become ready to move on. To understand the reality of things and how heart-wrenching they can be. How you spend a couple of nice moments before it’s time to leave. It’s a difficult thing. Goddamn it, it was worse than that year we stayed at home. But things pass. 

They always do, don’t they?

Take a moment to accept your world. Make it look and sound the way it actually does, not the way your mind paints it. Take it all in and whisper a prayer. Then move on before the sirens start again.