The windows are open and I can smell the morning. It smells of promise.
The dryer is rattling but it can’t drown out the music.
The song starts playing out of the blue, suddenly the kitchen feels too small.
I want to change it, but before I know it, the sticky tentacles of nostalgia are wrapping themselves around my throat.
My eyes catch the sun paint shapes on the wall. She is calling me back. You are grounded my love, here in this moment. Just be.
The hard season
the one that split me through
feels different now