If it wasn’t this, it would be something else. And its all just stuff… and people tell me to count my petals and cast away my stones. What’s in your backpack, anyway?
In my backpack you will find:
3 precious things, 3 small things, 3 big ones. Some paper with my spiky back hand print filling the margins with a thought I couldn’t let escape me. And a well worn deck of cards… a momento from the day my heart grew 3 times its usual size.
And because it wasn’ this, at least I know, it doesn’t have to be on Valentine’s Day. It doesn’t have to be by the time you turn eighteen or thirty-three or fifty-nine. It doesn’t have to conform to whatever is usual. It doesn’t have to be kismet at once, or rhapsody by the third date.
It just has to be. In time. In place. In spirit.
It just has to be.
