Warm sun shining on my back, I dig through piles of old trinkets and imagine the lives of other people. I had forgotten what this was like- springtime. The city has started buzzing again. There are farmers markets and free events and my favorite of all, flea markets. Instinctively, I go to tuck my hair behind my ear, but realize again that I've cut it all off. It feels right. I feel more like myself. Last year slipped through my fingers. I finally worked up the nerve to visit my dad in treatment, and it took a toll on me. It was difficult for me to see him struggling. I thought by sending the money, I'd be solving all of our problems. But I should have known that money only complicates everything. It was enough to get him more medications. More treatments. But not enough to make him feel whole. He begged me to take him out of the hospital, and I did. We spent his last few months together. I know now what a mistake I made, shutting him out. I should have spent longer with him, but we had run out of time. He told me he didn't blame me. I tried to believe him.
I still feel the dull ache of loss. I tried many things to cope with the death of my dad, but sill I feel hollow guilt. Soft at times, when I'm with Banks or Sail. Pressing and angry at others. Today is different. My grief is not soft or pressing. It does not come in waves or crash constantly against my body. It is just- there. Muted so much as I can ignore it, but loud enough that I cannot forget it entirely. I have spent my entire afternoon hunched over baskets of old junk. Consuming free waffles at Karnival Diner, and laying in the grass with the taste of ikea lingonberry juice in my mouth.
It is hot enough
To get freckles on my face
Today that's enough
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