(no subject)
There is an apple slowly bruising on my desk. Day by day I watch brown streaks darken and dullness bloom across its skin.
Mornings are hard, afternoons softer.
On my lunch break I walk down to the waterfront, feel the pink bloom in my cheeks, talk to my mom on the phone about the nature of relationships, about what we would do, and what we do, about my upcoming high-school reunion. How did I get here? How did I get so old? I wonder aloud. One step at a time, she tells me, just like anything else. One foot in front of the other, so goes life, I suppose. Later I talk to Micah about my grown-up life, my grown-up sounding job. He tells me I am grown-up. That’s why I’m so stressed out.
Laugh in agreement, what else to do? Think about direction, breathe deep, point towards something, close my eyes, open my eyes. One foot in front of the other, one step at a time.
Mornings are hard, afternoons softer.
On my lunch break I walk down to the waterfront, feel the pink bloom in my cheeks, talk to my mom on the phone about the nature of relationships, about what we would do, and what we do, about my upcoming high-school reunion. How did I get here? How did I get so old? I wonder aloud. One step at a time, she tells me, just like anything else. One foot in front of the other, so goes life, I suppose. Later I talk to Micah about my grown-up life, my grown-up sounding job. He tells me I am grown-up. That’s why I’m so stressed out.
Laugh in agreement, what else to do? Think about direction, breathe deep, point towards something, close my eyes, open my eyes. One foot in front of the other, one step at a time.