I am from yellow houses. The ones with green shutters and vines growing along the sides. I am from rainy weather with umbrellas to big to hold in my small, weary, hands. I am what I am. I am unloveable and complex but loved and solved at the same time. I am an open book but one that remains closed until someone comes along and open me, reading each page, some colorful and others just blank. I am a story worth telling and an experience worth sharing, some good, others not so much. I am from sunflowers and freshly cut grass. I am a blank page but I can easily be marked. I am what I am. I am from linen sheets and warm laundry. I hope to be less of a burden than I am. The youngest child, the one parents hope turn out alright. I am from tears and broken hearts. But I am also from sunshine and glasses half full. I am artwork that hangs on walls and painted in murals, ones you can’t glance at just once. I am from cold winters and warm homes during them. I am what I am. I am from clothing too big to fit my tiny body and fresh apples too small to fit my empty stomach. I am what I am.
Where I’m from
The sun light shining through my window but only enough to welcome me to the day. The birds are chirping only waiting for me to rise from my bed, stretch, and meditate for a minute or two. The wafting smell of coffee beans and oatmeal fill my senses as I stroll into the kitchen, but half asleep. The blue sky or maybe grey will greet me as a slide the window open to great the morning air, one with the residue of last nights rain. The morning walkers quickly walk past my window only having a conversation of their own with a friend or a lover. The 5 am shift started and the 6 am is soon to be, the cars cruising past. The children at play before breakfast is served, sidewalk chalk and a box of matchsticks, mom said never to play with. The day looks inviting, may I join?
Kids at play with matchsticks and chalk
I will wait up for the happiness that once belonged to me. I will kiss the robins in the early morning and the fall leaves right outside my window. The books waiting to be read, I will read them, to pass the time, some a better read than others, but I will read them anyway. The darkness will go away soon as long as I light the candle each night. I will hug the flames, feeling the fire enter my body. I will glow like never before. I will be the light until the happiness that once belonged to me returns.
I want to be the flames
I laid in bed that night with a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. Not winter but fall. It was back in my home. The darkness I felt winters ago, perched up on my windowsill begging the sun to shine for just one day. I felt his silence when I knew he was near. My heart was heavy and cold, I could hear his words creeping up on me in the night. It was dark. But I could feel the pain rushing back in. It was dark and there was a lonely cat outside my window.
I am scared and tired.
It was the middle of August and I felt a little more free. I felt the breeze blow through my hair as I tried to touch Jupiter with my pinky toe while gazing at the stars. The moon was big and the bees were still buzzing and I felt so free. I felt as if I’d been whisked away by the sunflowers growing slowly but more and more each day. Take me away.
I hope one day you experience what it’s like
They say there are ways to cope and writing is one but all we wish for is the cure. In the storm and chaos of everything summer, we only wish to smell the roses a little while longer until the thought of the killer shark takes over our minds leading us to a place where we’re too afraid to swim. I go to the beach and look at the waves only to wish I could dip my sanded feet into the water letting the chills take over me. Anything and everything we’d do just to feel free.
Anxiety is hard and you aren’t alone
It’s not just another rainy, Sunday, afternoon. Walkers don’t just walk by, umbrellas waiting to catch the tiny droplets of rain dripping down window panes. The sun doesn’t shine just because it has to but because it’s your birthday. It’s not just another day or another year but another year you’ve lived, loved, cried, and most of all began a new chapter in your life. It is your birthday and not just because the calendar says so but because you lived to deserve it. May your pillow lay gently upon your bed and may your head rest lightly upon the feathers. It is your birthday and all because you deserve it.
You are beautiful and kind and important