I have this image in my mind of our window, the window.
A picture of it too, an actual picture.
I am standing there, in front of it, the window.
It’s a warm, sunny morning
After a long, dark night of using
It’s seconds after the sun fully pops up and exposes itself in warrior pose
Bright, golden light flooding my apartment, and my face, my body
I’m wearing gray, baggy sweatpants, a tight, but loose shirt, expanded by the evenings to-do’s.
I think I was still straightening my curly hair at the time, for lack of self love
and lack of children, I’m still mostly consumed with how I look
instead of how I really feel and ways that I can change my misery to something more sun-shiny
more whole
more real…
and I remember myself looking down, walking slowly, standing slowly at the edge of the window
wanting to soak up the sun star’s warmth, joy and healing…
while simultaneously regretting and feeling guilty for all I have done in the last 24 hours….
And I somehow remember in this cycle of sunrise and sunset, that there is more to this life
that if the sun can awaken anew
so can I
even at the window
for a few, short
glorious
seconds…
nightshiftsister 