Twenty-one years ago,
I was running my last speech tournament,
Serving this community of brilliant young people
Who spent our weekends
Telling other people’s stories
In cluttered classrooms
Of empty schools,
Longing to touch another human
To bring tears or laughter
With just our words
And the spaces between them.
And when the awards had been issued,
And our guests departed,
We seniors told our own stories,
Shared our own tears and laughter
As we prepared for what comes next.
I was not prepared for what came next.
Twenty-one years ago,
I walked into a house too brightly lit
For the middle of the night
Confused by the presence of people
I didn’t live with
Who looked away when they found my eyes.
And someone kind led me to my mother
Who held me tightly when I screamed
Over
And over
And over
That he shouldn’t have been out,
That this was stupid,
That... just... no.
And I sat on the swing
With a friend who could listen
And found my words lost
To the spaces between them.
Twenty-one years ago,
My story changed.
My tears changed.
My laughter changed.
Like the song I used to play on the piano
That includes a note the key no longer sings.
And today,
I use words
To remember.