To up and leave for a whispered promise— brushing against unwritten stone. I moan. Just a sound to fill the hollow. I don’t mean to sound so monotone. But I left behind all I’ve ever known. Do I land like a feather, fallen from my flock? Gently, tenderly graciously welcoming. Or like the snap of an alligator’s jaw— No looking back, swallowing every bitter memory marching through the swamp with bruised and scraped knees? At first, there’s excitement in unfamiliarity: a snaring

I was in Sweden, craving hash browns from McDonald’s —my favorite. They didn’t have them. No iced lattes. No oat milk. We drove away. And somehow, it made me miss everything I didn’t realize I missed. I miss hash browns from a yellow and red clown. Getting hungry with food already dished, fruit chopped, gas tanks filled. Takeaway from anywhere Tex-Mex, lunch specials, early birds. Fancy flip-flops, chilly sweaters. Every day was a pool day. I miss the weather, chatting about