Jagged Glass

When home doesn't feel like home anymore.

Two days ago, I wanted to write about how the sky seems to go on forever in Miami. How it dips down into the horizon as if it’s both swallowing it whole and embracing it as a part of itself. Today, I believe it has swallowed it whole. And I am uncomfortable again. Miami, is exactly the same. And I am not.  I feel as if I have been replaced- or maybe everything else has been replaced and I am the only thing that has remained the same. Maybe a thing much bigger than myself has decided that my home needed to be renewed- it has overstayed its welcome. Maybe that’s why everything feels so fuzzy- like and unlike wrapped into one and reconciled right inside of me. And I walk around with it. 

She told me I should smile more often. I wish I told her I had nothing to smile about. Has she been replaced too? Maybe that is why we bicker about driving directions instead of laughing, head turned back, laughs dripping out of us and splashing onto our thighs that vibrate from our happy, happy bodies. When was the last time that happened to me? When was the last time that happened to the person that last owned this body? Because that is not me, is it? And I know nothing has changed- but that is the only way I can explain to myself that I no longer fit into places (and people) like puzzle pieces, but rather jagged glass that- maybe, just maybe- will erode into soft pebbles by the sheer power of the waves, and the wind, and the sun. And the sky will swallow me whole too, one day. I just need to decide if I want it to. Do I want to be soft? Do I want to click-clack against the pebbles that make up the shore and move with them as one the way I am meant to? Maybe I will say no, and I will keep being jagged and rough and hard to hold and I will feel uncomfortable under toes but no, I will never make them bleed. I will just stay- with the pebbles- and make my home in the emptiness between them.