It’s been quite some time since this ledge has appeared and once again we stand on the edge of the Earth. It never gets easier thinking about the life that will be left behind, a history of faded curtains half-blocking a future of only mountainous escapes, but we made it. Lessons every year or two, teaching everyone about the dangers of hoarding love, delivered in a lovely pink bag containing a pink box stuffed with warmth from home. It became a comfort to know that despite a past of tragic circumstance, a life lived that matters is one that begins with a hug.
Overlooking the clouds that await to whisk you away, standing chest to head at heights unseen, you held my hand with loving dreams. Sure, unreal they may be and full of parts from a place that took me years to see, but you never stopped believing.
Today I went around the world and I saw things I never thought I’d see, fulfilling dreams you didn’t know you wished for me when you handed me steamed buns that were baked. For years you sweat away at a job you didn’t like, because you wanted to teach us good work, but ended up teaching me so much more when you said there was only one way to love. To live. As we stand on the ends of the Earth with the sinking sun at our back, the orange-red hues fading to purple and blues that fade into black, I hear you tell me that it’s not up to you because God has a plan.
This was your gift to me. The everlasting doubt just sharp enough to cut through an exterior always in view, but never quite seen, reminding the parts never quite sure that the true goal is to find meaning. It’s odd looking down on the clouds.