Here I have found myself on a Saturday,
the rain tiptoeing on this cafe’s deck.
I am sitting inside.
It is cold enough to be wearing a sweater
so I am wearing a sweater
and a pair of neon yellow shorts.
Last night I cocooned myself in the sheets,
the first time in months.
I spent hours there,
in the dark,
breathing softly on top of my pillow,
thinking of how much it took us to get here:
How many rivers we’ve crossed
How goodbye sounds different in every city but always means the same thing
How each skyline makes me gasp in wonder,
How I still don’t know if I belong anywhere at all
I wonder if other people do this leaving thing better
or if I could start calling myself an expert.
I don’t know what it feels like to keep my wallet full
or sauté vegetables without burning them
or wake up next to someone and have them want to stick around for the coffee to brew
but I do believe in the learning of new things.
I believe in correcting bad habits
and keeping my listening ears on
and apologizing not if, but when, I fuck everything up.
I get it wrong so often but I know sometimes I have the ability to get it right.
I am not sure who we all write to when we curl up in these coffee shops and pick out the right color pen,
but I thank you for listening.
Even when it feels like the sky will never take of her shimmering grey dress,
even when I can only drink wine out of coffee cups because they are the only glasses in this apartment,
even when I find the weather too cold on a Saturday because I wore neon yellow shorts when maybe I could have put on pants,
even when I wake up here by myself what a home I have made
I strung Christmas lights and plugged in my keyboard and hung up my dad’s record and called this place my home.
I did that.
I told the Minneapolis skyline I would see her soon and signed a lease without ever seeing behind the door.
The decisions I make are not forever ones.
They are “right now what do you want” ones
The summer was full of suitcase living and cardboard box moving and falling in love with the boy that forgot about me and using my credit card for the smallest cup of coffee they sold and making a couch on the floor out of blankets and spare towels and using all the money I saved up all summer for a bike for the 6 green apples and cliff bars you need for dinner this week and remind myself that I will not die from sweating too much because the heat will break.
Here we are.
The heat broke.
I can sleep with the sheets on.
I can wake up in a home I created that I put the chain on with only me inside.
These calloused hands and dark circled eyelids make for the most important stories, the most special of company to keep.
I am proud of how far we’ve made it, these feet and I.
The summer was too hot.
Autumn has come and greeted me with a kiss on the cheek and a squeeze of the hand and god is it good to see her.