My mom takes fake flowers to visit the cemetery. She says, “these ones will last forever”. I wish my favorite moments could be preserved like that. But there’s beauty in remembering too. I was torn from the start. I felt the sadness before anyone could even speak of it and that sting still lingers. I wear longing like a veil. Reaching for new spaces to occupy, but my mind is stapled to the floorboards of the home that built me. I’ll live there forever, I’m sure of it. I guess I’m the ghost, after all. So, leave me in side streets I once roamed off West 130th, the park on List Lane, the top of the bleachers where I dared myself to hold my breath for too long, the cemetery- I’m part of all these places and moments and people and I’m trying to get better at letting go of it all before it lets go of me first. -AMT©️