Today is Sunday and I took photos of a new friend

I am grateful that I take photos of my friends

I want to frame them and put them on my walls

the photos, too

I came home to jams my parents sent me

and made pancakes to try them with

– raspberry is always my favorite flavor

There are avocados on the counter

that will be ready this week

and the men outside my window are

blowing around the last leaves of November

I don't spend every Sunday like this

Sometimes, I spend Sunday deciding what I am

Deciding I am fleece lined mittens,

and warm baths,

and love letters

but maybe I am frostbite,

a stomach ache,

or a return address

Really I am bones

and breath

and blood

and hair

Sometimes I think that’s too much

but I am just a girl

with a collection of jams

waiting for the avocados on the counter to be ready

Sometimes I want to wear a hoodie to bed

but I should call my mom instead

Sometimes I want to disappear

but thank goodness I didn't

when it's time to shower

and wash my hair again

I could do this all day

completing myself

I’m tempted to try and complete you

I’m tempted to finish the sentences

I started about you

like how I watched your hair dry

from the back of the lecture hall the other day

but this and the rest are all helpless run ons

I'd rather write that sometimes,

my hair drys the way it did when I was small

in unruly curls I struggle like my mother did to manage

Some say walking is falling and catching yourself

Being alive is like that, too

Except when you want to stop

Lie in your own bed

the pillows soaking up your freshly washed hair

while it drys all around you in spirals

Being alive is like that too

November, 2022