Spring. Spring again. This campus comes undeniably into bloom, but I am feeling less and less like flowers. I remind myself over and over that I am on the brink of change. Movement. But there is something undeniably missing. Some sense of wholeness, and I've torn open an old wound that was doing so well. Maybe?
But the light slips in and we climb trees. My arms and legs are scraped like childhood. The days sit heavy. I fall asleep in the heat of my sweater. I roll down hills. I wonder how she can make it look so easy.
I have never found it easy. But I have never let go either.
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