Cancel plans, run away, turn down the music, and have faith.
Being open to whatever comes next, possibly the best decision you’re ever going to make.
Cancel plans. Eat out one more time in the town you’re living in. Call all your friends. Get a ticket. Pay in cash.
Arrive. Disheveled, and armed with your unique needs and excitement. Are you missed? Do you feel it, the weight of your own existence?
It’s organized, slowly, by whimsical notions and fears floating away down rivers not yet explored. Very youthful and glowing, you post Instagram snaps of a life that means more than a bore. You’re out loud, right? Living luxuriously, speed showering through jet setter hostels, near and far to those near and dear to you.
Caked in cake, taking a day job in a kitchen to make ends meet. You’re allergic to wheat and soy, but you’re going to live. You’re going to live! How does that feel? Are you sure you’re excited for it this time, the next time?
And a baby, a baby comes in spring. It’s not yours, but you fly home to meet her. She’s gorgeous, and you’re happy. Finally settled. You see the light of the people who love you, the friends and family you’ve collected. They look at your passport stamps with wonder, smile at your mailed postcards with ease, joke about your wanderlust, your vagabond hairstyle. Your ripped jeans, your faded t-shirts, your old Birkenstocks. You’re happy, and light, and good. It feels good. Being home, it feels good.
You lift off. You realize you’re at the best days, your free-spirited, single, happy self. There’s worlds to explore, head on the window on the flight back to yourself. A tear rolls down your cheek, you wipe it away, startled. What’s that from? I am so sad.
How can you be things known and unknown at the same time? How can you feel, despairingly all you’re feeling, and melt, all you’re knowing isn’t yet come to pass?
Maybe coming home is sad, too sad, to heal from anymore. What’s the use for now, stay in sun.
Cancel plans. Return home. Stay in the sun. The sun of your life