Spoke to my sister today, far away.
Alone in this state I feel at home;
it was once as a child, beckoning me as an adult.
I needed space away from judgment, from wounds that were too deep to heal,
like the death of my grandparents,
unconditional givers, their house torn down after their passing, my sanctuary from all childhood pain, a symbol that I would have them to lean on no longer.
Don’t drive down 2nd North, you’ll just feel the sting of pavement where your memories once were.
At least you still have wallpaper patches framed on your wall.
I heard you’re haunting big sis, not me, can’t say I’m jealous, maybe I’m just not open, maybe she’s crazy (her own words, not mine), but if I could feel you for one minute near me, smell the smells in that house, or touch your sweet faces, I would give up every petty vice I have to be in your presence again.
Ten long years for one, and nine years for another, you couldn’t be apart for long, your love endured, and spread to me, a girl often lost and lonely, filled by your faith in me.
I’ll never forget you, my sanctuary grandparents. I know you’re resting in peace, but if you ever wish to visit me, I’ll open myself to the possibility. I will.