As I started writing this weeks ago, on a piece of scrap paper that then got shoved behind a James Madison bobble head on my disaster area of a desk at school, I had a lot of things on my mind: my birthday, the anniversary of my stepmother's death, the anniversary of the death of a favorite former student the same year, friendships (both new and old, evolving and devolving), loved ones just starting out on their journeys, and obviously Andrew's ever-happening milestones.
It was all sort of overwhelming, and my October funk has been a little more vicious than usual. I'll be happy to see the month go, but it's with the understanding that November probably won't be any better. Anyway, this turned into what it is. Another song without music, another poem without purpose.
How things change in the blink of an eye--
turning, growing as time goes by.
The things that were are no longer there,
and grief becomes something that you can bear.
The best things in life don't go away,
and important people choose to stay.
Maybe they change, maybe they don't,
but the ones who remain will love you the most.
What I expect and what I receive
are always changing and remain to be seen.
Time moves on, and so do I,
as everything changes in the blink of an eye,
I spend my days looking forward or back,
waiting or remembering while I get off track.
Never in the moment, never in the now--
I'd like to enjoy it, but I don't know how.
Going through the motions, going through the days
And the rare occasions that cut through the haze.
Glass half-empty, never half full
and always the memories popping up in the lull.
The days that were and the days to come,
Important to me, but forgotten by some.
Waiting for something to take up the slack,
I spend my days looking forward and back.