a father now

I’ve know this man for 10 years now.

I’ve seen him drunk, complacent, goofy, unemployed, joyous, inappropriate.

Today, I’m watching him in the living room, swaying back and forth, holding his baby girl in his arms.

He’s only known her for one month but he’s already become her father.

How is he already so comfortable being her everything?

It’s only been 30 days.

I am overcome with the beauty of it.

I see hope for humanity in the way he holds her.

This is where it begins.

He is showing her how she should be loved. How she should hold herself.

I hope she knows that she is one of the lucky ones.

I hope he knows that she will never thank him.

 

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missing you

I miss you.

You are halfway around the world. Only just starting your day.

You’re basking in sun and novelty while I am blanketed by night and cold and loneliness.

Do you feel lonely at night too?

I’m still learning how to live without you. This is only just the beginning of the time we will spend apart.

You will move away. Find love. Stop asking me questions.

You want to hold me, keep me, love me.

I can’t give you what you want.

I can’t explain to you that I have become disillusioned. Romance starts as a sunset, brilliant, consuming, beautiful.

The colors shift and change and dance with one another. It’s magnificent. You try to copy it onto your cells.

Then in a soft blink, the colors mute themselves. You try but can’t stop blinking the color away. The vibrancy is slipping, why is it all so grey?

I know this sounds dark.

I really do belive in love.

I believe in the love that comes with lifelong friendship. I believe in growing old together and holding hands and laughing.

I can’t bear the thought of our sunset living out its life before mine ends.

I can’t fathom being myself without you.

We almost broke it. Before you went away.

Can we start over?

Souls don’t find each other very often. Not like this.

I want to go back to the beginning.

Before my life became what it is now

missing you.

girl crush

We only recently became friends.

There is an open ease and a timid unknowing between us.

I love her home. I love the way she lives her life, free of the limits so many carry.

Sometimes I hear uncertainty in her voice and wonder who gave it to her. And why she never gave it back.

She lives a life of pleasure. We eat olives and bread and smelly, creamy cheese. We drink wine from Europe. She refuses to drink American wine.

Even when she is struggling, she eats and drinks well. It’s something she requires, unapologetically. Like going to the dentist or getting a haircut. It’s how she takes care of herself. Through decadent nourishment.

I watch her smile as she takes a sip of wine.

And silently thank her for the permission she gives me to care for myself.