18 Years of God Damn Bullshit: A Memoir

Earth, The Mother

((slight cringe warning))

Est. Jan 2020

Dear Mom,

How are you?
I really wish I knew some days

Today I sat outside and felt the air

It was warm yet still had its familiar licks of coolness

The Earth was damp and full of sprouting little clovers

I smelt the air, and I could tell even without looking at the smog-filled sky that rain was coming

The trees, funnily, were in this state between winter and spring

Half golden-brown and half green (on the parts with leaves at all)

I feel like I knew the Earth today

I knew its sense of change and discourse

I knew the way she held her tears, and her indecisiveness

I saw in us both the clover just beginning to sprout on her winter-barren land

And I felt her steady breath on my face like ink reaches a page

She is my mother

She is the one who bore the fruit that fed me, and who held the water which bathed me

And on such lonely nights, I swear I saw her pull the moon closer to me

She knows me too

She knows the first and last of my steps, and she knows my thoughts when I lay in the grass with my head to her breast

She knows me when I laugh, she can feel it between her trees

She knows me when I sing, for she can hear it in her breeze

And she knows whenever I need to smile, for the birds she sends are my favorite

And she knows just hope to calm me down, her salty waves are infinite

She loves me just like I love you, even though I'm not your mother

Similarly, you're both my world, unlike any other