I am finally back in my apartment after
four months of post-tornado repairs. I am writing at my desk for the
first time after what feels like ages. We are finally home and I
couldn't be more grateful. I've missed it so much, all of this
freedom and space. It's hard to find the words to express it, but I
suppose as a writer I should at least try.
The past four months have
felt as if I'm curling up to fit in the space a child me once filled.
At first, it wasn't so bad, but as time progressed, so too did the
aching. My body needed to stretch out, but I was stuck in a child's space. I knew I wanted it, needed it, but I forgot what it was
like to stretch my limbs out. So instead, I had dreams of freedom as
I lay curled up waiting.
Then we got news we could return and I tore
my way free of the space I filled as a child. I spread my arms like
the wings of an albatross escaping a canary's cage. My legs wobbled
as I stood like a newborn deer stumbling in her first steps. And I
found my way back home. Sore, but happy to fly again.
-Zero
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