someplace we can go

you ask

a place they won’t find us

a place with grass and dirt

with god on our sleeves

tongues in our mouths

a place

with no history

a place

for something holy

for silence 

for this.

“In heaven, all the interesting people are missing.” – Nietzsche

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When I think about my life this time last year I wonder what I was thinking. I think about how I turned into a crazy person, how I allowed that to happen again. About how I wanted something so wrong for me so badly I couldn’t eat or rest. About how kind some of my friends were, how well they took care of me, even if they didn’t know what to do about any of it. They could have just thrown their hands up and said “quit being such a baby,” but they didn’t, because: they are good friends. Instead they bought me nachos, they listened to my story, they called to check on me. They reminded me that I have more than enough, but that it’s still okay to want more, to expect better. I hope they know how grateful I am.

I think about how I listened to the same song over and over and over again: “And oh, high and mighty, what do you know? And there is no great eye on the sparrow.” About how crushed and stupid and vulnerable I felt and how Kelsie said she thought I was brave. She said this not knowing that all I ever wanted was to be brave, so maybe, just maybe, even though so many things fell apart, at least I could say I’d had one shining moment of bravery.

When I look back on it all, I know that it’s as simple as this: I took a risk that didn’t work out. It was a miserable failure and the loss was real. But: I would do it again. Because Andy was right: what eventually took its place is better, but: I had some growing to do before such beauty could come into my life.

I didn’t know what I was hoping for until it showed up.

“Sometimes – there’s God – so quickly!” – Tennessee Williams