Completely Unscathed

Have yourself a merry little Christmas, and the lights sparkled like never before. We sat exhausted on a late night couch, our bellies full, our hearts warm, our senses satisfied. A call sprang to life on the screen, six hours back across the ocean and dinner was only starting. We joined them in their meal, told stories of the season, of the future, sang songs and toasted to the wonder. I walked home later, in the stream of holiday revelers returning to their beds, and remembered what I try so hard to forget.

Isn't it time you stopped whining about missing New York, he said weeks ago, before the beers grew too many. Isn't it time you got over it? I wanted to agree with him, I wanted to move on, because that is what people do. But when New York is the only place that has ever made sense, is the only place where none of the heartache, or fear, or sorrow matters, how can I? My every step in this life is shaky, and only those streets steady me. Please be patient. I am trying, as best I can.

If I were not here,
I would be nowhere.
If I were not here,
I would be no one.

And next year,
all our troubles
will be out of sight.