I often find myself wondering
what my family would think if they ran into me now,
the differences that would stand out to them
from the last time they saw me, a year ago.
I usually stop at the obvious:
purple hair, eyeliner, thirty extra pounds.
I used to hope they'd stumble across me
sometime when I was at my most lost and lonely,
a selfish snapshot wished on them at my lowest.
That would show them, make them understand.
But now, today, I wish they could drive by
right this instant, and see me on the sidewalk,
loaded down with grocery bags
full of fresh fruit and sweet tea,
cradling an armful of giant sunflowers,
in love with June, and laughing
just because I don't have room for all this happiness
inside of me.
A postcard sent home.
Greetings from sunny My Life. Having fun.
Have mostly given up
Wishing you were here.