as my grandfather relived his past
through the countless photos and
albums, he looked so happy.
he was sharing his life
and experiences with me,
the product of his product.
his office was messy and
covered with machines i
had never seen before,
full of buttons so different
from the touch screens of today.
on the wall was a picture
of my life as it once was,
as it could have been.
my grandfather, grandmother,
father, mother,
and me.
the face of my mother was smooth,
yet to experience such
fatigue and stress as she does now.
her stomach jutted out just a little,
a sign she was already carrying
the beginning of my little brother.
my father, tall and familiar,
but also completely alien,
standing happily next to my mom.
he was wearing
the same shirt he wore a week ago,
it just looked new.
their hair was darker, browner, fuller.
their smiles those of new parents.
how odd,
to see my them together,
and to think how it could
have been if they had
not left each other.
or rather,
if infidelity had not made
a rocky marriage into
a ruined one.
what would it be like
to live in one house,
have one room,
have two parents,
instead of three?
sometimes i think of how much
better, easier, that would be,
but also,
what of the people i would
not have met if they
had stayed together?
would i be a completely
different person?
in the end, i think i
am glad for how things went,
and if i dwell on
"what ifs" and lost possibilities,
i will never be grateful
for what happened.
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desolation
Poetrydes·o·la·tion ˌdesəˈlāSH(ə)n/ noun a state of complete emptiness or destruction. anguished misery or loneliness. just a book of my inner thoughts, feelings, and observations TRIGGER WARNING: may include eating disorders, self harm, alcoholism, suici...
