Familiar Things Now Foreign

I see the same things every day,

hear the same voices, for the most part,

smell the same scents, taste most of the same foods,

feel the same feelings.

But lately, I am feeling like everything is

different.

Time moves at fluctuating paces,

it never seems constant,

and my mind floats outside my body

waiting to return to orbit.

I hear conversations transpire around me,

yet never feel the urge to contribute to the discussion.

I see faces I am used to, even faces I love,

but can't seem to connect when I look into their eyes.

I notice things I pass by,

walking wherever I am needed day to day,

and see things for what they are,

but there remains a desire to know more.

Is there a story behind the cherry trees planted in the park,

were they put there for decoration, or to honor a human being?

What's the history of the cracks in the sidewalk,

the divots I trip over time and time again?

When I drive in my car to and from work,

I often think to myself

how different my view is now looking through the windshield

than through the passenger window when I was a child.

A lot of it is perspective,

an aging perspective, I suppose.

A curious mind deliberating over images familiar

yet foreign when filtered through a jaded lens.

The sensations we feel,

the experiences we have as adults,

might remind us of our past selves

yet it all feels new.

I remember hating the taste of a cheeseburger as a kid,

avoiding horror movies at all costs,

fearing roller coasters and phone calls,

even thinking I could teach myself to play guitar at seven years old.

I remember the scents of summer in the backyard,

the fresh paint on the swing set, the blooming flowers,

the hot driveway gravel after a storm, the pine trees my father planted,

and the chlorine from our makeshift, wannabe pool.

Every now and then,

I stand in the same spot on the lawn I might have before,

and feel the frisbee hit my hand, hear my mother calling my name,

smell the flowers in the garden and see the bright blue in the sky.

A familiarity holds me tight in these moments,

however fleeting,

and I realize how strange my existence since then

has been.

There are plenty of familiar things now foreign

that I might never see in the same light again,

but I must try to think, question, find meaning

and allow myself to remember, live in the moment and look forward.