4/15/2024

What is the past? It’s a place I dwell less often than the present. But sometimes it gets stirred up and asks for my attention.

To remember is an exercise in melancholy; a bittersweet exploration of old aches. I have been lucky in my life to have found happiness often. But happiness, for me, is rarely a quiet thing. I look back and wonder sometimes. Why was I so inclined to choose connections that could only end in fireworks?

It has become strange to recall the elation of those fading times. A voice speaking when I’m half asleep. The angle of a set of shoulders beneath a thin shirt. A secret smile tossed across a room, meant for no one but me.