I know a boy who remembers me with 3 A.M.s and the scent of sour apple, and a man who's not sure who he's become. I know a mother and a father and a sister who laughed when she was born. I know your birthday and your number and your eyes before they find me. I know more than I realize and less of what matters. I used to think, not feel.
I'm taking a minute, and I don't know if I'll return it.
My window is open so I can listen to the patter of puddle on sidewalk. I have eighteen questions and only three answered. I have a mug of orange tea which I drink warm, not hot. I have a song in my head and another on the radio. I have a box full of memories and a lifetime to make them.
I have a story and people who share it. It would have been enough.
You know, the future is a funny thing, and maybe it's just me, but I keep going back to the past. I think that's the way it's supposed to be, though. I wasn't the only one who shaped me. I had help. They mattered then. They matter now.
We grow together, and it is beautiful.
