Little Silver

She greets you at the train with that California sunshine of hers that never wore off, with the endless enthusiasm that even a lifetime of heartache and a spring of orphanage couldn’t erase from her smile. She cries by the ocean and whispers her what ifs into the sand, but you have 20 years between you and tears never scared the affection from your hearts. The sea heals you, you let the waves wash you over again and again until the life guards tell you you can’t handle it. You want to explain to them the extent of all the things you can handle, but you owe no one proof but yourself.

It’s a perfect summer day, New Jersey sparkles and warms you with feeling you did not expect to have. The country is beautiful, how high the sky and light the air to breathe, but at the end of the day how you long for those streets which are yours.

Truths appear from behind the veil of my mourning. Not everything is pretty: but everything is real. I regret nothing, you know. I never will.

It is not life if we are not forever in awe of its mysteries.