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Sag Jun 2022
I have never been held quite like that
like that day in the ocean
you held me how the ocean held me
how it let me float clung to my skin molded around us
the hold the ocean has holds up

you kept saying the waves had hands every time they crashed into us
white foam clouding the way my legs wrapped around your waist when we went too far for my toes to touch
you held me and I felt light
my heart was weightless and my head was heavy dropping back over and over again
laughing up at the sky
looking into your eyes
the setting sun glistening off your skin and turning your brown eyes golden
the way I know these days are
golden

we pressed our whole bodies on the sand right next to the water and let the waves wash up over us and laughed each time we had to resign farther and farther up the shore because they were up to our ears
we pressed our whole bodies on the floor of the tub, my back against your chest against the white ceramic and your head falling back to rest against the blue tile your brown eyes closed chin up towards the ceiling
I felt so held when we pressed our bodies flat against white fitted sheets hands on each other’s cheeks your thumbs rubbing my hair out of my face staring at each other in silence still the waves crashing over us my comforter clouding the way my legs draped over your waist
wish I could hold onto those moments forever the way held me that day in the ocean
Sag Aug 2021
'Souvenir' comes from the french word meaning remembrance. It is an almost universal behavior to collect tiny mementos while traveling, some tangible object that holds all of the intangible memories and joy that came with the moment. Souvenirs are a quite lovely sentiment when you really think about it - before the plastic and mass-production and tourism industry come into the picture. In Japan, souvenirs are called omiyage, which travelers bring back home to loved ones and friends as a sort of apology for their absence, a way of saying "sorry you couldn't make it" or "wish you were here."
Today, the top ten most popular souvenirs are ornaments, t-shirts, postcards, shot glasses, tattoos, sand in a bottle, fridge magnets, tea towels, key rings, and random gifts. My mother has chosen to cherish the seventh most popular form of souvenir: fridge magnets. Manmade refrigerator magnets were popularized in the 1960's for educational and functional purposes but very quickly evolved into fun and inexpensive decor. She has so many state shaped magnets from all around the US, and a few from outside of it.
The thing with my mother though, is that she has always been a self-proclaimed homebody. I sometimes worry that she has agoraphobia but I think most of it is just that she never really had the opportunity to explore the world outside of the dead end street she grew up on (and still lives on to this day). She was raised by her grandfather who was a merchant marine and traveled often during her childhood, but she married and had kids at a young age and never really had the time or money to go on her own adventures. She was a stay-at-home mom to my four siblings and I, as well as to all of the neighborhood kids. Her door and arms and ears were always open for them. Now those neighborhood kids are all grown and so am I and they're off having their own kids and I'm off having my own adventures, but we all make a point to bring her back a magnet from the places we visit.

The wide variety of magnets you can find in a single gift shop in every city surprised me at first. There is now an art to choosing the perfect one for my mom - I went to four different shops in Portland, Oregon trying to find the perfect one. I never found the perfect one but still, that's dedication. I stray away from the boring traditional ones with the state name and shape (although this type is one of the less creative neighborhood kids go-to) and try to find ones that will make her laugh or show her some of the culture or sights from the city instead.
A green-eyed squirrel from North Carolina, a candy skull from Cancun, the mysterious Bigfoot from Washington, a sailboat from Maryland, a front porch with a lamppost from Puerto Rico, manatees from Central Florida, and entirely too many Los Angeles cityscapes and Smoky Mountain bottle openers adorn the kitchen. So many, in fact, that she ran out of room on the refrigerator and had my dad mount a magnetic board in the kitchen hallway to fit them all.

I know it makes her happy to see all of her children having these experiences and seeing the world but most of the time it just makes me sad that she couldn't be there with me. I hate to think that she ever looks at them and feels like she's missed out on too much or that we held her back in any way, though I know she would never admit that. We bring her souvenirs so she can live vicariously through us, so that she can cherish our memories in place of her own. Even now that I've moved away, I mail her magnets from Florida as an apology for my absence.  
I rate them three out of five stars.
Sag Jun 2021
I am so afraid that the longer I stay in one place the more people around me will come to know and understand me and the thought paralyzes me

Am I pushing them away because I can’t stomach that level of vulnerability or does it really take just a few quick months for people to learn to love and then get sick of me

I want to run away and start again but I’ve already done that twice and both times it’s taken less than a year to start to feel that way again

Is that empty weight in my chest really called loneliness and why is it that heavy and how long do I have to carry this around for
how far across the world do I need to drive and how long do I need to disappear to remind myself to stop packing these insecurities at the bottom of my suitcase when I go
Sag May 2021
the sticky taste of metal,
lime,
cholula, and eventually
beer
hits my chapped lips as I hide a tender smile
watching you fight back tears and laugh at how silly you must be for it while talking about your past, thinking about your future,
how hard your dad was on you,
the internal war going on in your head telling you to make him proud by surrendering your own happiness.

your vulnerability pierced my HEART in that moment,
choked me up a little bit;
it's been a while since i've seen that level of sincerity in another person.
I wanted to freeze time and the people talking around us,
reach out a hand, and tell you:

you are safe to cry with me.
Sag Jan 2021
I have a habit of overthinking
hard as I try I cannot stop the growth of a thought
once the seed has been planted

(I remember driving to the city once
we wanted to take my niece and his nephew to the aquarium
the kids asked about the blanket of vines and leaves that formed wall-like structures on both sides of the interstate
we told them about how it was an invasive species from Asia, and that it spread all across the south and engulfed whatever plants and trees that originally stood there
the whole hour ride they sat in the backseat,
shouting "kudzu!" every time they spotted it out the window)

kudzu
kudzu
kudzu
kudzu
kudzu
kudzu
Sag Jan 2021
some places beg to be written about
the lighthouse at what feels to be the edge of the world
has always been one of those places.
the desolate trees stretching up to a gray sky, a birds nest resting, teetering at the top of a bare branch
the clouded water revealing nothing of its depths
the fog so heavy - it doesn't linger, it lives there
forcing quiet introspection
demanding stillness
from those who squint through the gloom

at other times, astonishingly, the landscape transforms
monarch butterflies migrate en masse and flutter on the milkweeds
the sun sets, a tangerine looming over the saltwater marsh
tiny ***** dart into their holes in the sand and slowly poke their way back out when the coast is clear

In my memories of this place
I am always looking down at myself, on my bike,
small,
coasting down the winding road that leads to the tower for miles,
keeping up with the kid on his rollerblades weaving across dotted yellow lines
All-seeing, in the act of storytelling,
As if I'm one of the woodpeckers perched in the pines
written about the St. Marks Lighthouse near Tallahassee, where the book Annihilation by Jeff Vandermeer takes inspiration from
Sag Nov 2020
remember the poem i always said
i'd write about that light
house well here it goes
ten months later
and certainly not as romantic as id
hoped

ok ok so
i'm the lighthouse
(of course, you should've predicted that one)
oh oh and
you're the boat thats never coming home
(of course i should've predicted that one)
some days its sunny and if i squint
reeeeal hard -
hand over my brow and thumb on my temple

i can see the shore!

other days the fog is so
thick
so grey
so heavy
i cant see the hands reaching out to hold me

but frankly, i'm not sure they're even there anymore
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