Stop.
We're living life in the fast-lane, and we forget about the little things, like laughing with your sister and smiling at a stranger and listening to old recordings to remind ourselves of where we've been and who we've yet to be. Articles of clothing, earring backings, scribbbled wonderings- I'm leaving pieces everywhere, so someday I can find myself again. And I'm collecting too- goodbye hugs and secret smiles and flickering lights below the horizon when the sun has yet to set.
Slow down.
I want to watch the flowers again, how they smile at the taste of dew.
Slow down.
I'm still a little girl, sneaking into mommy's makeup. And it's not because I'm losing weight again or because Bubbe's dying or because I'm meeting new people or because I'm leaving behind others or because I'm scared of what the future brings. It's not because our roof's still leaking or because the rain is stopping or because she falls asleep before I can now. And it's not because I don't have my own, but because sometimes, I just need to feel her. Sometimes, I just need to be held.
Slow down.
It rained for forty days and forty nights, and when the storm finally broke, it wasn't the floods that drowned me. It was the quiet, which said too much.
