A story in
code to heal

A few weeks ago. Sunday. Tattered carpet and old 90s cabinets. In my mind it’s all humble but the mountains exalt our living room at sunset. Josie tells me she’s leaving for Thibodaux. 10 years with me. She’s 22, married, going home. Her big smile- the smile she had when she still wore braces. She holds much in like me. I confess I wish we had more time. She cries with me. The house is messy. I’ll miss her and Aaron, her husband- all their help and companionship. Best friends. They go on without us. We cheer our gift on till our echo fades. Then Tommy on the phone. I’m on a run, sun shining, spring blooming, purple flowers, fair-weather friendlies out walking. My only family here. Moving back to Louisiana. Same town as Josie. Thibodaux. One town pulling anchors up in the same week. And other news came too. Same week. Wake up calls come in threes. More time, I wish. I wish I had helped you, Josie, more. I wish I had written, more. I wish I had shared my true voice. That I listened. Showed you fearless. Ripped off more bandaids. Do what I love. Build what moves. Build what helps. Build what connects. But I tended the body when days were easy. Banked the fire before cold came down. When the hard hour knocked I was already standing. The east goes gold. I am a child all smiles and an old man with tears. A new time swings open. Before, I felt it. Now, I’ll do it.