Sunday, July 5, 2015


I wasn't looking forward to the day, but I wasn't dreading it necessarily. I was at peace with it. I was a bit wistful with the memories. 4 years it has been. And in the cool of the afternoon I realized I was still surrounded by my people. My own. It's just some of my people weren't there. But what settled in deep is that they are still mine. A part of me. Somehow deep inside I knew. 4 years ago the pain was searing. It took my breath and I couldn't stay in the place that held memory from as far back as I could think. The waves of them threatened to drown me. But on that day, in this year, I was a stronger girl. Oh the waves, they came, but I let them. And they told me something that I couldn't see back then, what I didn't know. 

We floated out, she and I. Three months apart we are. I'm the oldest. And that smallest of separation has always shown in us. I could get us quite into a heap of trouble. Our laughs, our voices, still the same, she and I. Like the little girls who snuck out of bed, wanting to be a part of the party too, days of together like sisters. Our dads are brothers. 

We had one of the littles pull us out into the waters far away from the shore, over and thing kept repeating itself. Those waves? They brought us right back to shore. Right back home. No matter how far we went out. We eventually made it right back. To where we belonged. To our people. And I smiled. I smiled at the wounds that have healed and are becoming something I never dreamed. I felt the new ones, fresh and still so painful. But the waves. They come back. They bring you back. In time. Thankful. 

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