I was here and there

I was here and there. I was there when so many things occurred–the swaddled baby in a lobster trap on the beach; sitting on her father’s shoulders. I was there when she held her cat tightly, hair white from summer. I was there when she went to school, to Canada, to Germany, when she got her period, when she got kissed, got pimples, got drunk, went to the mall to buy Frye boots and hung around in Claire’s. She was social and a good student. She had a head on her shoulders and the head got filled with shit and it sagged. No longer upright on her shoulders and her eyes looked sad. Kittens were born in her trundle bed and she was still sad.

I was there. I saw her parents’ marriage unravel and neither left. If her mother left, she returned soon enough. No one spoke. I was there for that, too. And going off to college feeling confident and yet each piece of her was broken and she couldn’t find what she was looking for.

She moved 6,000 miles and her healing wasn’t there. She moved 9000 miles from there and her healing began. In the fog and sunshine mix, I was there. I saw her work, go back to college, couple up and have 2 babies. Those years of growing, the reckoning of family structure and trauma.