acting it out

the art of learning to live


a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past

The ground is changing beneath me every where I step.

The floors have literally been ripped out of my childhood home.

I’ve always been a person who faces change with difficulty.
It’s one of my greatest personal frustrations.

& the last 6 months of my life has been nothing short of a perpetual spiral of change,
with me grasping for any shred of normalcy or the familiar.

today, I spent 15 minutes just trying to help my mum get out of the bath tub.

as I stood there inside the bathtub with my jeans rolled up to my knees,
I thought

This woman who was like Wonder Woman to me growing up
This woman who was “the man” & “the woman” of the house
This woman who fixed cars, mowed lawns, installed garbage disposals,
& built furniture

she can’t even stand up on her own
she needs assistance doing simple things I take for granted every day.

& she is fucking beautiful.

& even without the ability to pick herself up
she is the strongest person I have ever met.

God, I wish I could be half as strong as this woman.

but I’m not.
Not yet.

I picked her up & I sat her down
& I walked into the hallway straight into the arms of my giant little brother
& I cried.

I cried because I know I’m not that strong.
I cried because I’m worried I will never be that strong.

I cried because I miss my family.
I miss what we use to be.
I miss what we could be.
I miss what we will never be.


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