Ghostly scribbles on the sidewalk in front of my childhood home. I’ll haunt this place forever because a piece of me is buried under the maple tree in the backyard. I dug for treasure until my fingers bled. Wide eyed and hungry for a sunset. Think back to that feeling. What made you feel safe? Our laughter roared like thunder and I swear I can hear it if I let myself listen. My handprints are still etched in the driveway. The maple tree’s limbs reach downwards now. But you’re buried on the other side of town and I can’t put the pieces together without breaking my fingers. The world has a way of making you strong enough to shatter and put yourself together again. I feel ghosts holding me up as I fall over the memories. Maybe I miss the scene more than the actual house itself. Maybe some wounds are meant to stay open. Maybe I found the hidden treasure and buried it with you- I’ll never tell. -AMT ©️