This Part is for Her

Weeks ago, I went back to the city I was sad in for two years. I was terrified to set foot on that red Cedar soil, especially knowing I would be seeing people who knew me back then. But, much to my naïve surprise, although the city was the same (minus a few new fast food conglomerates) the people had changed. They had grown as I had even though I expected much less for them. How terribly cruel of me to write these people off as two dimensional when I knew them when I was only living myself in one shade of misty gray.

I missed so much while I was being so sad. Years later, the same stage is serving new girls who will cry like me, lose their virginity like me, regret like me, fall in love like me and that is beautiful. As I drove through the canyon roads that kept me alive when no one was there or I had pushed them out, I stopped and sat by a lake full of ducks and mirrored trees.

I let the rain sprinkle glitter in my hair and thought how terribly sad it was that I was so hollow in such a beautiful place. How sad that the soft and caring breeze that always sneaks through these evergreens felt only like it was pushing me down. The lovely town drove me away with its own hands. My brain and the chemicals that live there turned the red rocks to flame until I ran back home to my blue mountains to cool my scorched hands. But how lovely to have been back and finally see the beauty there. How lovely to go back as me, embracing the sad little girl and holding her hand as we both wind through those leafy, canyon cliffs.

My photo

This Part is for Her

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