tell me who you are.

that i am constantly surrounded by people is of little comfort. there is still only one soul i want to be close to me. and that is not possible. so what am i to do? the best i can, i guess.

just do it,

my friend advised.

don't worry about being perfect. you demand a lot of yourself, and you do a lot, more than you know or give yourself credit for.

yes,

i said, the sun warm on my back.

a cloudy sky dappled the sun at the beach on wednesday. but i would have sat out there in a hurricane, so water starved i am. i miss the beach, the sand, the sun. there was something so common and familiar about it growing up. something i miss.

and all these things i miss pile one on top of the other.

and today nine years ago, i stood over the bed of my grams as she took her last breath, and i loved her into the hereafter. how i miss her.

some mornings i tumble out of her kitchen, still missing the familiar smells, the chile relleno i've never been able to make her way, but have my own spin on now.

there's so much i want to tell her, so much i want her to know.

do we get those chances again, to sit with those we love, to remind them how they made us who we are today. who we will be tomorrow.

i don't know.

all i know is, there is a seat across from me that stands empty.

for now, emptiness is a strange comfort. a familiar stranger. and i am content. lacking nothing, except the one whom i watch the horizon for.

come back to me.