by rachel

the sun sets over harkness today; the eggplant-purple, the pink we didn’t quite like as children, the marmalade orange (the orange that so often cloaks the other hues).

“i thought the sunset was really beautiful and really wanted to share it with you”

“thank you, it is really beautiful”

we look within ourselves, pause, draw out all the parts that could be faulty and lay them out across the table. we miss the warmth under our soles, the sticky wind across our faces, the saturated drizzle of home.

we stick our tongues out only to taste the cool dry air.

here is the growing up, here is the striving to be good for each other (alongside the striving to be good for ourselves), here is the yearning, here is the sorrow. we sit outside on a bench because, for the first time in a long time, the wind is not an assault on the skin. we feel the shudder of our bodies; i feel the heaving of my chest then the slow calming of my breath. there is laughter too, there is laughter amidst all of this.

after it all ends i get an email from my father that reads “in one month time”.

in one month time.

in one month’s time i’ll be home.

i miss the feeling of home.