One year today, waiting for this long, long circle to complete its degrees

the bar where it happened has closed down.  the social media accounts have been closed, blocked, or I really don’t know.  the tags would still be there, with some poking reminder

why is this particular frame of time so important? a year, a month, a decade can go by, and we may still remember the loss, but the pain does not inhabit the same exact number of molecules as it did upon first break, upon the slow, slow buildup to the tearing of the deed to the house of our friendship

why does my mind feel better quantifying my growth in calendar units?

this cycle

this quiet anniversary, for me and for him to celebrate and mourn, several cheers to the sky of a love well-lived,

at this wake, the flashes of the good and nurturing, of devotion and intimacy, of the inextricability of two people’s hearts

at this wake, the imagined future, the pressure to be married by now, to settle down with someone you can’t grow with, (or won’t let you grow?), an incredible social death! Oh, to be friendless, to see yourself, by your own design, dangling in uncomfortable truth.

at this wake, the wish still existing, still buoyant, that the brutal, awful truth can save us, and can serve us to expand as a human, to dig into our individual selves, to reach and grab and fall down so much, to cry to cry to cry, to grow to grow to grow, to live to live to live.

One yearmonthdayhoursecond ago today, and a new cycle can begin.