My arriving is the opposite of my leaving.
The walls are yellow. It struck me so much the first time. Of course, when I close my eyes and think hard enough, I was the one who painted them. Push harder still, stretch the muscles reaching back, and I actually hated the color even then. But they never seemed so yellow until now. And for the life of me I can't comprehend why this stupid little detail of the shade (of a color of a brush stroke of a few hours spent with something I hated) on the wall where I used to live takes on so much importance.
Regrets? Oh yes, I know about regrets. I used to decorate my life with them, but I tore them down and packed them up when I moved. They're en route right now. All I can pin my mind on is how I should have never, ever taken a second for granted, and I should have held on to her all the tighter when she jumped into my arms. The time when I would know every day and every tear has passed; I willingly closed the door myself. I just can't let myself read too much into the time gone by and the inches grown. I was afraid they wouldn't recognize my face, it was part of the risk I accepted as I started to close the door.
Yes, I think it's safe to say I know about regrets. Who doesn't? We just display them differently, bury them or shelve them or swallow them in rage and despair.
Or write them out on paper.
My arrival is the opposite of my leaving. Behind me I left what I thought I was and here, as I come back, I gather it up about me. Gather it up as I shepherd all the true, best things in the most unfamiliar home I have ever known. In my wake I left tears and now I wipe them away so the fresh ones can carve their own trail, because I don't have a choice. There's so much more to say but what I find time to express caries about half the weight it had in my mind.
Leave it unresolved again? Don't mind if I do...
I'm thankful for...
<3eli
Regrets? Oh yes, I know about regrets. I used to decorate my life with them, but I tore them down and packed them up when I moved. They're en route right now. All I can pin my mind on is how I should have never, ever taken a second for granted, and I should have held on to her all the tighter when she jumped into my arms. The time when I would know every day and every tear has passed; I willingly closed the door myself. I just can't let myself read too much into the time gone by and the inches grown. I was afraid they wouldn't recognize my face, it was part of the risk I accepted as I started to close the door.
Yes, I think it's safe to say I know about regrets. Who doesn't? We just display them differently, bury them or shelve them or swallow them in rage and despair.
Or write them out on paper.
My arrival is the opposite of my leaving. Behind me I left what I thought I was and here, as I come back, I gather it up about me. Gather it up as I shepherd all the true, best things in the most unfamiliar home I have ever known. In my wake I left tears and now I wipe them away so the fresh ones can carve their own trail, because I don't have a choice. There's so much more to say but what I find time to express caries about half the weight it had in my mind.
Leave it unresolved again? Don't mind if I do...
I'm thankful for...
<3eli