I wanted so badly to turn around
A little brain dump from the last few months. I’ve been around.
I still feel my breath catch in my chest when a white Kia pulls up beside me. Will the ache ever go away?
I’ve been reading more than I’ve been writing these days. Poems by e.e. cummings that give Gertrude Stein’s Tender Buttons a run for their money. Silly little rom coms by authors I’ve never heard of. Short stories, long texts.
A message from a girl that reads: estoy solita aqui.
I’ve been thinking about how scent is so tied to memory. If you’ve ever gotten close enough to me, you could probably pick my scent out of a crowd. You’ve probably come home after a long day of work and realized that your bedsheets still smell like me.
Early in 2022, I spent my days working 3 jobs and my nights working in the shell of what would become my new home. I bought plug-in air fresheners that smelled like amber and oud and cedar because that’s all I could do at the time to make it feel more home-y and remind myself that I was working toward something so much bigger than I could imagine. Over time, the refills ran out and were replaced with new ones. Briefly, I pumped fragrance through my HVAC system - lavender and bergamot. But recently, I went back to the old plug-ins. And now every time I walk into my house, I’m reminded of late nights tiling the bathroom floor. Pockets full of screws and Allen keys. I built this home with my own hands. I’m so thankful for nostalgia.
Lately, I’ve been standing at the kitchen counter with a green apple and a paring knife, peeling away the skin and carving around the core. Sometimes, the fruit is so juicy, it drips down my hand and forms a little pool on the counter.
I’m learning how to be spontaneous.
I read this and it plays in my head on a loop now:
“Did you have sex?”
“No, she kissed me at the entrance of the Four Points Sheraton. Everyone saw. It was just as good.”
I went up to New York recently. I feel like a different person every time I go back home. I guess, in a way, I am.
I took the Holland Tunnel this time. Passed by that spot in As Good As It Gets where they’re driving back from Baltimore and Jack Nicholson is realizing that he’s running out of time with Helen Hunt. That part is technically an error, but I still like it.
I found parking on my first go around the block and spent 15 minutes figuring out how to park via an app. I guess it can’t all be easy. Can it?
I got a silver-gray stain on my Japanese denim. I leaned on a New York City light pole on the corner of Bleecker and MacDougal and got a tiny silver-gray light pole paint stain on my jeans. And now my Japanese denim has that very distinctive silver-gray paint smell that you’d probably recognize if you were from my city too.
A few years ago, I drove across the Brooklyn Bridge at 4am and Stars Align played on the CarPlay. This time, I drove across the Whitestone and Sanctuary played. And I slowed down on 95 when I passed exit 5B. And I wanted so badly to turn around.