Sugar and silk

Some days I miss when the world seemed so big and the stars seemed unreachable. I miss piling sugar in my sweetened cereal, then watching the milk descend like silk into a porcelain dish. And that spilling any of it was my biggest challenge for the day.

And then I think about the days that calm was the only tasty thing I craved. Because slammed doors, curse words, and broken trust were thrown around so high, they ended up in the attic of mind, in a dusty box that I have to look through from time to time when I try to figure out why I'm afraid of being too close, but hate being so far away.

Some days I miss having crushes and giggles in the middle school hallways that smelled like cheap perfume and puberty. I miss my school's administration being my second family, in my mind at least. People who commanded what they needed instead of yelled because they didn't know their wants.

Some days I sit in the sun and watch the breeze swirl by me. It's normally big and bright and colorful. So I try to paint with it, let the intrusive thoughts rummage around in my mind about my past just so I can hastily evict them. Then put them on this canvas, the sky, and call them clouds.