I think I came here to remember something, ya know?
I think I wanted to put my face in the grasses on the hillside a lot more often than I did.
My advice would maybe be to not sleep in a house so often.
Maybe my advice would be to build a hollow in your stomach where all the animals can live.
That's something I feel okay about doing.
The doctors told me that according to them, I was broken a little?
That I had some girl magic but, a lot of boy magic too.
They offered me pills.
I didn't want pills.
I wanted to carry ferns and wildflowers in my teeth to the abandoned dam in the woods and thank the stone for crumbling.
I wanted to roll around in the mud and get misquito bites
Kinda like tiny blood sacrifices to mother nature for making me something tricky that I could spend lots of time unfolding.
I almost died of lyme disease my first summer here but,
In the scale of things,
I got bit guiding a lover who's soul had left their body up to the stream to drink and find themselves again.
The moment it must have happened, there were seed pods on my skirt and flushed scratches on my knees, streaks of dew and bits of grass stuck to my legs, like it was all trying to heal me as quick as it hurt me,
The lights on the bridge cast gold shadows on us, and I was singing their soul back into their body, singing up the stream.
Bridges and balloons. The pebbles on the shore getting stuck to my hands as I knelt in prayer and kissed the river with my mouth open.
Holy water ghosting over my eyelashes without glasses on.
Everything happened how it did,
And,
I'm okay.