awake. in the dark.

something happens when you are awake in the dark.
ironically, things become so clear - a search light showing you the way.
suddenly - events from decades ago snap into the forefront of your mind.
the wallpaper from your childhood room.
the way kindergarten room 2B smelled of crayons and white glue.
the first time you saw your father cry.
that snow day when you made christmas tree ornaments with your mom.
felt. glitter. yarn.
what propels these once forgotten moments forward onto
the black walls on this particular night?
are they clues - hints to string together? reminding you that all of these
tiny occasions have linked onto one another and
have led a path to this very moment?
i know that if i just let myself fall a tiny bit farther
into these memories i will
drop right in and direct the scene like a play.
memories so real, so tangible and although so old, they are fresh again...
the smell of grass while i capture lightning bugs down
the block on a thick summer night.
the way i felt the first time a boy i liked made fun of me in front of the class.
my chest burns and simultaneously, (i am sure) my heart has
plummeted down and onto the wooden floorboards.
and then in the same breath, here i am again.
awake.
in the dark.
as i fall into sleep, these minuscule segments of who i have become
will slowly flutter back onto their appropriate shelf in my mind.
the way that tiny snowflakes fall with such purpose,
they know their spot and once they find it
they seem to blend with all of the others - impossible to locate again.
as these moments spring forward and back, traveling through and around me,
i am reminded that i am still 4 and in awe of my family.
i am still 7 and as awkward as a baby giraffe.
i am still 18 and wild like fire.
i am still 23 and scared of my future.
i am still 30 and full of passion.
i am still here.
awake.
in the dark.

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