Just Some Short Stories + Things

early morning departure

the chill in the air cuts deeply through my unprepared layers

the sleeves of my hoodie pulled down and clenched around freezing hands

my fingers flex and fists clench, feeling as though they're being licked by flames

there's a stillness to the early morning entrenched in darkness, not a hint of sun to be seen

it's just me and the harsh push of nature as i turn the key and the headlights emblazon the tree ahead

sliding into the driver's seat and not daring to touch the ice block of a steering wheel in front of me,

i look out over the withering, gnarled husk of the plant across from me

the leaves have long fallen, not in the autumnal hues since i was last home

somehow this extension of the earth has aged more poorly than i in my short time away

i don't think to blame the tree; it's surrounded by the cruelty of nature and man-made nonsense

the gentle grumble of the car is hardly noticeable as i wrap my fingers around the steering wheel

my palms are not as sore as they would have been minutes ago touching this same leather

so i change gears and drive away from the old tree that i once spent days climbing with my brother and away from the spot on the sidewalk where we drew hopscotch outlines with coloured chalk and away from the shrub that my mother tried to replace without my father discovering her lack of green thumb and away from the home that isn't the same since i returned

because i don't think i'm the same
and i feel the frigid air constricting my throat
and i will away the moisture gathering that i fear will freeze my eyes, open and staring forever in the rear view at the remnants of my childhood
and i know
that i am too cold to belong to the warmth of my youth, of that home, any longer