Like a Bell, Tolling

How strange to suddenly realize
you are uncomfortable in the house you grew up in
you find peace in silence where before you craved noise
where your eyes grow lighter as the day progresses until
you can (sometimes) barely see in the evenings
when
before you used to run without fear through the blackest black.
how strange, yes,
your childhood memories have scattered throughout the world, and you
(sometimes)
call one another and laugh, reminisce, but
other times
you look at a memory and realize it isn’t yours, or that it never belonged to you.
Sometimes, sometimes – it brings you joy, wry amusement, and then you cry because you can’t remember what your grandmother’s hugs felt like,
and you realize mortality. You just realize it.
When you were a child you thought you’d live forever, and
you still think that, in your deepest self,
that place that holds the promise that you can fly, of course you can – you just dreamt it –
so strong this belief that as you walked you almost flew until your adult mind reminded you
it’s impossible.
It’s alright to believe in make believe, you think, as long as no one knows.
She knows, but she is a part of your soul and shares that belief.
He might know, we shall see.
How strange to suddenly realize,
confined spaces make your heart rate escalate until your breathing cannot keep up and you must stop to hush this ringing in your ears because
your childhood home no longer smells like home.
How strange. Is it strange? The word strange is strange and you keep running it over your tongue until you forget what it means yet it somehow still resonates.
Strange. Strange.
Like a bell, tolling, though not ominously. Hypnotically, yes, like a lullaby that you are slightly afraid of.
Your own sweat brings you back to yourself, the familiar smell of human strength that reminds you
Sometimes, and especially now,
you are free to make your own home.
It might not be as scary as you thought, and you think of your golden curtains
smooth, soft,
bringing in the daylight with their own brightness.
A brightness you never had at “home.”

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