i wrote the following words some days ago and just found them tucked away between torn out pages and smudges of ink…
“we’re so different now. even if we can’t tell quite how. i can see the way you look at me when i laugh. and the way our skin jumps ever so slightly off our bones when another ancient pine hits the forest floor. i’m sorry that i disappear sometimes. i want so badly to be here now. with you. in this. every day. but i get so tired. i get so lost.”
they feel so familiar and so foreign all at once because some days they are still so true, but most they are no longer. in many ways i’m coming out the other side of them. we remained so hopeful in the days and weeks following the upheaval of our lives last june. it all started with a phone call. dan is missing. his car was found in the red hills. this isn’t like him. and then the fire. so fast and unrelenting. so much support. so many kind words. propping us up like sticks in the mud. but as the months trudged on and people went back to their lives…we got angry. with the loss and the waiting and each other. you rarely failed to offer a kind word, but i think i did. it’s easy when things get hard to try to go it alone. to think you can handle it better that way. together, but separate. but we spoke up. and we said sorry. and life with anyone, but you wouldn’t make a damn bit of sense after all that.
so, we’re different now. but i think mostly in the best ways. not only in the wounded ways. more sure of ourselves. of each other. of what we want and where we’re going. together.