back home,
the calendars
were full of us,
names for every day.
we took sweets to school,
wished each other well
in the corridors,
as if the day itself
was a friend.
bonbons waited,
a handful of flowers,
the warmest hugs.
they were small,
but made the day
feel special.
for it was.
here, in my second home,
there are none.
i never really cared
for name days,
not the way others did —
but i miss the fuss
and the unspoken promise.
today slipped by
like a coin
rolled under the bed,
with a thought
gnawing at me.
perhaps growing up
is simply learning
to accept
that some traditions end.
Sep 28, 2025
Sep 28, 2025 at 11:16 AM UTC
back home,
the calendars
were full of us,
names for every day.
we took sweets to school,
wished each other well
in the corridors,
as if the day itself
was a friend.
bonbons waited,
a handful of flowers,
the warmest hugs.
they were small,
but made the day
feel special.
for it was.
here, in my second home,
there are none.
i never really cared
for name days,
not the way others did —
but i miss the fuss
and the unspoken promise.
today slipped by
like a coin
rolled under the bed,
with a thought
gnawing at me.
perhaps growing up
is simply learning
to accept
that some traditions end.
this one is about the sixteenth of September.
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