you hugged me yesterday
and the smell of you is
still in my hair
catching me off guard
every time the breeze blows
from east to west and
my senses are assaulted
with nostalgia, and no sooner
i’ve identified the memory
it fails me and I forget as
my emotions settle back down
only for the breeze to rise again.
I’m nostalgic for a past
that never actually existed
in the way I had myself convinced.
Six-year-old me thought I was safe
because it was familiar, but
she was never safe there, not really.
It’s taken decades to find a place
where there’s no double meanings—
no veiled threats under compliments here.
I reach out my hand, it’s bigger now,
and show my little self around,
“it’s okay to be scared”, I say,
“We’re all we have,
but that’s enough.”
1988- 