Find me down the garden path, the path that built to carry us through the weeds. The one that was lit by the night sky/ and whispered promises of laughter and memories. The path the kids led the children to their clubhouse. That path I built over many years of changes.
Find me down the garden path. Now overgrown with vines and weeds. As I sit and silently cry over all who no longer have need for it. I built it for them. I built it for you. I’ve locked myself at its end, wanting to stay in this little nook I had cleared. It has a perfect view of the night sky, especially during the full moon.
It’s here I wail for you, for our children. For the memories that move me to another time. The look on all of your faces, the smiles and laughter that echo around me.
Find me down the garden path if you ever wish to find me. It’s here I concede my life and all that it contains. It’s here I’ve decided where I shall remain.
You are everything. Everything that makes up this crazy life. You are strength and weakness. Beauty and plain. Honest and deceitful. Far from perfect, but you know that. You wear your flaws upon your skin. Like the sunlight from a cloudless blue sky. You are giving more than take. Unselfish to fault. Love itself.
You are everything. Never forget who you were and who you are becoming. Growing, stretching into who you always were meant to be.
You are everything to so many people. Their entire lives filled with your loud and boisterous laughter. A sound no one is ever able to forget.
So at the end of the day, know you always did your best. And you loved more than you could ever have imagined.
This day was all. All I ever needed. The culmination of a lifetime. A lifetime of hopes and wishes cast up to the moon. All at once came rushing toward me. Knocking me off of my feet. Just the sight of you, winding me. Reaching out to catch my breath. Exhaled and gone. This day was a thousand nights wound up. Lived and remembered. Loved and lost. Would I change it? Never.
Swirling smoke Rising from the cigarette that rests between your long fingers. Your nails painted a dark, deep red. I notice they match your lips. I am mesmerized.
I unabashedly stare at you. Exhaling your day into the night sky. Swirling smoke carrying with it your faults. You look troubled and afraid. But you conceal that well through a labored grin. You wonder if anyone can see it.
I so desperately want to befriend you.
To approach you like a fond memory.
But I know better.
It would be a rouse, for you are a great pretender.
You had to have been, to survive.
So I sit quietly, in admiration of you. Hoping that you will look back at me, Giving the chance, the hope. But instead you stare into the distance as if you see someone you recognize. Shrouded by the swirls of smoke that billow from the lit cigarette resting between your long fingers.
Lying there with you, filled with an emptiness I didn’t know to be true. You are mine, you were mine. I grew you and let you go. Now you cry as the sound bounces off the wall and shoots directly into my heart. You’ve broken it over and over not knowing at all the loss I have felt. The sorrow that consumes me.
I miss you even though you are so close I reach out and lay my hand on your back to feel you breathe. Just as I have done a thousand times before. The rise and fall bring a deep regret.
I think of the moment we first saw one another. We just stared in awe. No words were spoken then and words still unnecessary. You were mine. Have I lost you?
Tears well up silently as we lay there. I dare not make a sound. I will not let you see me cry. Still tear after tear runs across my face and hits the pillow leaving a spot that reminds me of your smell. The top of your head to be exact. The place I have pressed my face to and inhaled you. I can’t forget that smell as it will linger for my lifetime.
How I love you. Too much I suppose. But how can I stop? Do I even want to. Even though each minute that passes is like a weight falling down on me, crushing me underneath. In that space I wish to disappear. To run and not look back.
You were mine, but you are slipping away, slowly, painfully. I quietly beg and pray to be able to keep you close. What am I if not with you? I ask have I lost you? And it’s clear, yes I have.
All in a golden afternoon, under the skies of cloudless blue. Falling in love with all that surrounded me. I shut my eyes tightly, trying like hell to hold onto this moment. Feeling the breeze coming off of Lake Michigan, the faint warmth of the sun and as I open my eyes the deep green of the earth around me, stuck in the middle of the concrete and history and architecture.
The golden afternoon casts a warm light upon an industrial, dirty place. Transforming it into a romantic, intimate place where I share my heart with the buildings, sidewalks, and people. Shedding the weight I’ve bared, allowing the sky to lift it off my shoulders if only for a short time.
Weightless and free in this place resounding with sirens and screaming. Here I am allowed to let go. And I do. I let it all go.
Door creaks open as I step onto the front porch step. The wind blowing through the house and filling with every memory. Sadness and joy fill my heart. It is bittersweet and in that moment I ask myself silently if I should go further.
I do. As I reach to allow myself into a place that used to be mine, my heart begins to break. With all the hope that filled that space and lined the walls with smiles, now torn down and breaking. One step in and I am not sure I can go on. Everything I touch is a feeling. Some good and some sad. Every step is into a memory of times since forgotten.
The smell of my mother’s hair, the sound of my fathers boots, the door bell being rung. Laughter coming loudly from the backyard. The squeak of the chains of the swing my father built. The presence of my younger self, growing and rebelling. I feel her strength and anger.
The further I go, the stronger sensations swallow me. Lost in the past. Wanting to stay here, where she is. I’ve lost her and have been looking unaware of it all.
The innocence of home. The comfort of home. The familiarity of my room, my space. Now reduced to ripped, ragged and torn remains. Much like the way I feel at this very moment. Wishing I could go back. Go back and do it all again.
If only home was actually there. But no, it’s not. The terrible realization that this shell was never my home at all. Just an idea of what I wanted it to be.
