I have recounted the times arms twice the size of mine cradled me out of the car into a room with pale purple walls.
Only a few years ago I was held.
And now I hold a bag half my weight,
Moving across town, then the state, and soon the country,
The world used to only be as big as my peripheral vision.
Life and it’s end have reared they’re full faces,
I’m sorry that your mom passed away,
Both beautiful and full of questions,
It’s so wonderful to see you starting a family,
What does it mean to experience life and how can one build something worthy of looking back on.
Three children huddled in a corner,
Discussing matters of dragons and love while crafting three strand chords,
One of them still weaves the same,
And the other will be married in June.
Everything has gained a sense of permanence.
All actions weighed by what they’ll yield in three years time,
And in the same vein, now is still the time to make mistakes,
The cushion of development bears forgiveness.
I have been in a continuous state of learning that nothing I can hold and no place I can live will be permanent.
But there is celebration that the meanings I’ve etched into walls are doubly engraved into my being.
May the ground never settle beneath me.