Take the long way home. Don’t shut me out when I get tired. I’m just a mess of aching limbs and a numb heart, after all. Just let me rest in the passenger seat like how I used to as a child. Hold my breath under each street lamp we pass until we hit the south side. Those open spaces welcome me in and the only thing reflecting off the pavement is moonlight. I’m coming back down after years of unfolding. I’m unpacking my grief and reaching through all the spaces to make sure nothing is left behind. I’m sleeping longer than I need to, but I’m catching up on rest. I’m catching up on living. I’m catching up on everything. And sometimes I feel stuck in the tragedy. Like a piece of me died that day. I wonder what she would have been if things happened differently, but I have a lifetime to put her to rest. Call the angels back home even though they never left. Acknowledge their involvement in the beauty and don’t let yourself feel guilty for soaking it in. Even as you grieve. Even as you grow. Even as you rest. -AMT ©️