What drew you back to the center? I think if anything were to rip me to shreds it would be nostalgia. I hear it in my father’s laughter. The smell of my grandmas kitchen. The porch light of the house I grew up in. My cousins smiling at every inside joke we deem sacred. I never pictured life without these things until I had to. What makes you break? Is it the sound of loneliness? Or a version of hope that you still crave. It’s wondering what is left to come of a life that feels spent. Parts of me feel that it’s used up. All the pieces fell where they needed and we all turned out to be good people. That should be enough. That was the whole point, right? That was the purpose of why the laughter echoed and the door was always open and the familiarity of it all was more than a feeling of home. I take the long way back to the center and wonder if I will ever be the same. -AMT ©️