I know nothing of what it means.
I wake up repeating this phrase to myself but do not know how to finish it. I say it anyway as I make black coffee, and sit in my chair with the dog by the window and watch the swimmers in the cove swim past. I know nothing of what it means.
Who’s words are these? Who’s words are they when we wake up with the taste of another place in our mouth? Where do we go while we are sleeping?
I read your letter over and over again. It has the read of so many things deleted and unsaid, but I suppose that is exactly where we should be. I know nothing of letting go gracefully.
For the first time in my life I am disappointed, if only for a flaring second, when I get my period. I stare dumbly at the wall. The feeling lasts for the briefest of moments, almost undetected, but I see it, and register it as something new.
Because of this, I try to remember the girl I was a few years back and what she thought about her life and her choices. I pay her respect, and acknowledge how much we grow, especially and because of the decisions we once made. I tell her don’t worry, I’ll take care of you next time.
It becomes clear to me how absurd I was in thinking I could go forward by going backward. How much we have changed and how nothing stays the same. Life is too short to be so sad all the time, and beside, then you wouldn’t have her small hands and I wouldn’t have this view. I too have been holding myself hostage. I too have to lay down my promises and get on with things.
Because we make a life of decisions, and it is those very decisions that make our life. We know nothing of what they mean while we are making them. That is the agreement though, to trust enough in the tide and discover where it will take us. A good friend told me recently, tide comes in tide goes out. I would say this to you if I were saying anything at all.