without asking.
Spring came back this morning without asking me first. I was still wearing winter in my chest — that quiet, patient griefI'd been keeping for months — and the crocuses were just out by the bus stop, unbothered.
I think part of me has been afraid to feel better. Like getting on with things would be a kind of forgetting. Dad would have laughed at me for that. He'd have said something simple and corrective, and I would've rolled my eyes, and that's how I'd have known I was loved.
I don't know what to do with how much lighter I feel today. I think I'm going to let it sit instead of explaining it away.