Sunday Candy #29

Confessions & Expressions

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And so my feet hit the pavement and I’m greeted by the sweet sounds of birds chirping morning melodies, just for me, some perched high in the towering trees, some on wires, but all echoing through the empty streets, as I make my way nowhere.

And every step brings me closer to my center, while the clouds way above me, painted with their surreal strokes look over me. And it’s the little things that catch my eye, steal my attention, and make me fall in love. 

It’s the dewy grass under my feet, it’s the house with the white picket fence where the weeds grow wild and the dandelions with their fuzz pour out, it’s the charming little libraries that adorn the sidewalks, it’s the stillness and solitude of nobody around, and it’s every perfect orange poppy that I see.

And it is so nice to be out of my head, for the while that I can, heading around familiar corners, whiffing all that is floral, feeling feelings I didn’t know I had but that movement brings them up, and here I am, I’m moving through it all.

Until my mind wanders, and before I know it, I’m replaying conversations I don’t want to think about, thinking about then, thinking about now, and then, in my head, I’m making movies, writing out scenes, putting down prose, writing books, and poetry. I scrawl what I can by hand, but I’m not so fast, and almost everything is forgotten, and I think this is part of the appeal, I can only jot down so many musings, so many questions, so many things, and I’m left with almost nothing.

Whatever I’m quick enough to grasp makes its way into tiny pages the size of my hand, but I never capture it all the way I say it in my head, it is never the same feeling, never the same sound, never the same texture, and I worry that I’ll never do anything inside me justice,  but when I see a whizzing hummingbird pass me by, I’m reminded that this is a silly thing to be concerned about.

I want to be propelled by possibility, not paralyzed by it, and I don’t know if anything I’m writing will lead to anything greater down the line, probably not, but it doesn’t matter because at least these words are mine. 

Delicate creature

Suspended in air

Your colors blur

Ephemeral and rare.

And where do you go

when you pass me by?

I’m thinking back to the way we walked together, that one summer when we were teenagers, years ago, and how I learned how much hurt is often buried in rage. And there is nothing I can do about it.

He talked and talked and talked, and me? I listened, and listened, and listened. And He poured so much out, I remember thinking, you seem so much bigger than me, but you and me are much more alike than we are different. Because I felt the same.

But that was then, and here we are now, and tonight, we sit, His eyes sink in, He hunches over, He lets out an exasperated sigh, and I am struck because I recognize that sigh, I know that sigh, it is my sigh that I have sighed so many times before, the kinda sigh, that is slow and heavy because everything around you also feels heavy, and you try to let the weight of it all out, but it never fully comes out.

Despite everything, His heart was always tremendous, He was always such a good friend. He wasn’t “give you a shirt off His back” good, He was buy you an entire wardrobe and build you a home deep in his heart good.

But what happens when friends who live in that home go away? Whether by accident, or by choice, go permanently. Because He is left with only questions, no answers, and an empty home that only gets emptier.

What do you do? What can one even say?

I feel powerless. Because all I can do is watch, and listen, and listen and listen. And this time that is not enough.

And here, under the purple sky, I watch Him and think about all the ways he used to look so big to me. But tonight? He is not so big.

And me?

I can’t help but feel like I will spend forever feeling so fucking small.

And like the moth, 

we too will pass.

A brief dance.

A wondrous time.

Too close to light,

A burst of life.

For you, a playlist by both, me and my impromptu collaborator,

Elizabeth Edwards

. Did we capture tenderness?

Click the album cover, listen on Spotify, and let us know.

Cover by Elizabeth Edwards :)

& That’s it for Sunday Candy #29!

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