Past and Future
I smell him via a letter next to my bed. I instantly remember a thousand isolated warm moments in what had been a bitterly cold time.
I remember long, dark afternoons of teenage rigidity softening in the face of full stomachs and silently shared understandings.
Unasked questions have been asked, now. Unspoken topics have been breached. The levy of location has been broken, now, and my past floods into me.
I recently mourned a loss of my future. Of imagined children's faces and floorplans. It had lacked continuity -- it had begun as if I had been born out of nothing: a scholar, a woman, a forest-loving stitcher. Fully formed and made of iron.
New things are coming into focus in front of me. Behind me. Around me. I have stopped running full speed ahead -- away. The sickening swamps of me can't be subsumed (invisible) into the little marble of Cambria anymore. My past is no longer pocket-sized and hidden away, precious. Instead time is muddled. The smell of those soft, dark days is the smell of the days ahead.
I remember long, dark afternoons of teenage rigidity softening in the face of full stomachs and silently shared understandings.
Unasked questions have been asked, now. Unspoken topics have been breached. The levy of location has been broken, now, and my past floods into me.
I recently mourned a loss of my future. Of imagined children's faces and floorplans. It had lacked continuity -- it had begun as if I had been born out of nothing: a scholar, a woman, a forest-loving stitcher. Fully formed and made of iron.
New things are coming into focus in front of me. Behind me. Around me. I have stopped running full speed ahead -- away. The sickening swamps of me can't be subsumed (invisible) into the little marble of Cambria anymore. My past is no longer pocket-sized and hidden away, precious. Instead time is muddled. The smell of those soft, dark days is the smell of the days ahead.