When the Challenger became a stripe of white smoke against a clear, azure sky, I never looked at the stars the same.
The day I asked you if my blind grandpa now gone in his coffin could finally see me, and I realized you didn’t have all the answers that there were pieces of a larger world beyond your shadows. I don’t think I ever forgave you for blocking the light for so long.
The first pierce of sexuality, when he told me he wouldn’t let me hurt anymore. My eyes seemed older as I stared at myself in the mirror after sneaking into his basement and bed.
I clutched my battered calculus book to my broken hearted chest, when my mother told me she was leaving my father. A former mathlete, I became bad at numbers. Now, everything was fractions… out of one now stood three far, far apart.
The friendship, jealousy, depression, loneliness, mania, sunshine, stolen kisses in gardens at midnight…
All of it pushed and pulled me, danced and frightened me into now.