"I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary."
— Margaret Atwood
thank you, thank you, thank you
i cut my hair to my shoulders for the first time last week to feel like i’m in control while life spirals away from me. i’m graduating on saturday. i’m leaving the best job i’ve ever had. i’m saying goodbye to so many things right now, and now, and now. goodbye to hours and hours in a classroom every day, hating entitled professors and loving the kind, compassionate ones that helped to mold me into who i am. goodbye to random breaks in the middle of the day spent lounging in the grass with close friends and feeling absolutely young. goodbye to the local coffee shop i’ve worked at for the past year where i’ve met so many amazing people, from the co-workers who make me smile so hard my face hurts to the regulars that have the most interesting stories to tell; it was truly amazing to be a tiny part of so many peoples days. lastly, goodbye to my school with the beautiful, green campus and the herds of young adults learning to be someone; thank you for teaching me so much.
happy mother’s day to all those lovely mamas out there who never get enough credit for all the stuff they do. you deserve every day of the year, not just one.
personally, i’ve learned to forgive my own mother for leaving all those years ago and sometimes we text now, friendly and carefully, from across the country. it’s still been four years since i’ve seen her last, but i’m okay with that.
i’m still working on forgiving my stepmother for leaving me when she left my dad. it takes time and a lot of heart, but i’m giving it my all and hoping to succeed so that someday, i can hug her at family events and think only of the way she raised me so well, not the stormy aftermath.
i’ll always be a motherless girl at heart, but i can only hope that someday, when i have kids, the beauty of this day will shine a light on my bitterness and expose it to the true endless compassion and selflessness most mothers practice on a daily basis.
the problem with endings
i feel everything ending around me these days.
every experience seems to be a last— the last
time i’ll touch your cheek as we sit in the green
campus grass on a weekday afternoon. the last
class i’ll ever skip to drink coffee in the sunlight.
my last fraternity party, feeling simultaneously
old and young shoulder-to-shoulder in a room
filled with kids equally confused about their futures.
my last ever exam, after an entire life’s worth
of them. if my identity has always been ‘student,’
who am i now?
i don’t understand how you can see the twinkling
stars in the big, broad sky and still not believe in
anything at all.
if there is no rhyme or reason, how could i find
myself crying in my driveway on a tuesday night?
why would i feel myself sinking and my heart pounding
when i visit my dad only to find him all alone in a big,
empty house? what would you call the fuzzy feeling
in your belly when everything’s just right, when you
feel the calmness of the whole universe settling over
you like some big, cosmic blanket?
my professor says that every relationship must
inevitably come to an end. some by messy
breakups. some by jaded divorce. some by death.
i don’t want things to end so suddenly anymore.
i want them to gently fade away into the horizon.
if i’m not as aware of the world pulling things
straight out of my hands, maybe it’ll get easier
to say goodbye.