Someday
I’m going to be able to recite the line
“My favorite life is…
mine.”
and I’m going to believe it.
I’m going to have kids.
I’m going to visit Asheville, North Carolina a second time around.
And I’m going to reminisce about the time I ran away the summer I turned 17.
Because I needed to see mountains.
Because their dust had floated into my bones and tied themselves snug around my joints, and the magnet pulling me back had started to hurt.