Change

You return to the city humid, warm, it all feels the same and you revel in the much-needed rain. By morning, the change is here: a chill in the air, a sun reluctant to rise. There’s a lump in your throat you try hard to ignore. 

In the car, driving down, I took deep breaths and tested their flavor on the tip of my tongue: it’s just that I feel like myself again. Crawling out of mental illness messes with your senses, with your intuition, and you can’t believe anything you see. The deeper you fall, the longer it takes just to return to that place where you started. 

But you’ve been here before. You are wise with the years now. 

Dust yourself off. Begin again. It’s time to move forward, at last.