The simple truth is I cannot take everything with me. I cannot take this. I’ve always had to be the truthful person at our table. The one who takes a knee because because your weak spots force you to act like a mad person. I’m the one who ends up saying I’m sorry.
It doesn’t matter where you go. Someone told me that before I moved. I remember thinking, it better, dear god it better matter where I go. I thought I could outrun you. But I still wake up feeling like I swallowed something whole when you’re around. Feeling like I’ve done wrong.
Sometimes you shrink against the backdrop and get so small and silly that the conversations in grocery store isles feel like they happen to someone else. Sometimes it’s like you’re still in the car and we’ve just been driving this whole time.
I am counting on the belief that there will be some evolution, a new way of how we know things to be, and in that place we meet eye to eye. I don’t know yet it though, haven’t been there yet. Lately, I’ve been able to count on distance. But, I don’t even have distance to count on today. I’m not feeling so forgiving right now and all I think about is you taking her places I wanted to go. I think about her riding in the car, and wonder if the ceiling still rattles? And if you ever forget it’s not me?
I should have done this a year ago.