Transition

Homemade pizza and wine Standing around the kitchen island. New friends who never knew the life I had. Laughter Is this transition?

I think about healing. Obsessively. Compulsively. When is it possible? Certified mail.  Guaranteed.

One day I wake up and think about brushing my teeth. Brush. Spit. Wipe. First memory of what I’ve lost. Bolstered. Maybe tomorrow I will make it through breakfast. Is this transition?

Is it external? Everyone remarking that you are doing “surprisingly well” Frustrated.  I don’t need their approval. Yet strangely lifted, maybe everyone else can see what I can’t. Is this transition?

I think about healing. Obsessively. Compulsively. When is it possible? Certified mail.  Guaranteed.

In labor, transition is the storm before the calm. The pain before new life. Does that mean that my insides must burn? More than they already do Before the fates turn

When will be the transition?

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