I am envious of you for not feeling the same sorrow – you will never know my
sadness and I will never show you.
I will let go… just a little.
And like the moon that has phases, we will too my darling.
The weekends have become sacred it is as if we have borrowed time knowing we have to give it up the next day. Our days look more regimented like neat lines on a piece of paper and the plans have been set out for us.
For now I forget about the change that has shifted us, I forget about the uniform and the rushing.
The weekend has given us time.
Cotton like clouds fill the blue sky, left overs from the summer remind me of the long evenings. There is a warmth in the air that teases us just enough to leave our coats behind.
Pretending the stone path is a road and he is a car, Francis speeds ahead of us. Giving me just enough distance to watch and listen from afar. I am no longer thinking about the routine that kills my time I find peace with it here in the overgrown fields.
Change will dismantle old habits and like tiny pieces of glass the widow still remains but there are plenty of them to look through.
I look into your kind eyes and wonder if my love is excessive, I wonder what it would feel like if my love fell on cold shoulders, if there would come a time you don’t need me any more. I think about the time you were small enough to fit in my arms, legs dangling, head nestled into my chest.
This feels like being homesick – only I am home
You are my home
Here is to new beginnings, to change and growing. And much like the tiny leaf that tumbled and twirled under the tallest tree our branches will never change they will just let go every now and then.
My boy started school and the next chapter begins.