i keep thinking about these feet. mine. theirs. and the distance in between.
i want to go back. see their faces light up and hear their laughter.
but i find a deep refusal, in the most hidden places of me, to shove my way back into their stories. this is not the time and i am fine knowing that. there will be a time and when i see their faces again i'll let out a halleluia and maybe even do a little dance. it will be good.