Send It Out To Sea

I will never understand it, but I think it has something to do with Virginia and the grass filled cost that comes with investing in a snowman.

Once a year, I wake up to the usual last part of the exhale that is December.

and the snow has come for me.

All of these moments are connected. This year I am pulled back to dirt under my fingernails from holding on to what I knew.

Time on that day kept stepping on my toes, whispering in my ear to remember all of it, because it would never be the same again.

At the end of this year, I am going to throw away my map of roads that lead nowhere.

Roads to New Hampshire. Roads to that reincarnation of my father's attention staring across the room. Roads that sigh in the morning to make up for the lack of dual breath.

Here is where today brings me peace.

Here is where I have come full circle, and my phone is off, and my room is filled with the sound of snow and nothing else.

And here is where I am happy with this.

I worry sometimes that I have forgotten some of the moments in my life that brought me this feeling.

But then the sound of white comes along, and it's all still there.

No matter if the roads no longer are.