On New Beginnings

I walk the unknown paths

and look into the new faces

and smell the air,

the only familiar thing.

Back to basics

I go,

during the first days,

because that’s what people do

everywhere,

right?

And so I breathe and eat and drink, too,

and I sleep.

It’s a dreamless sleep,

one of exhaustion and fatigue,

and then there’s the routine the next morning

and the next and the next and the next.

And so it goes.

And then, after a while,

a little while

after I’ve made  a life,

a small, new little life,

I start to live.

It starts with a dance,

just one,

with a stranger,

who then becomes a friend.

And then there’s a dream,

just one,

that leaves star dust

on my skin

and on my days –

makes them golden

and shine

the way I’ve only ever known them.

And then,

before I know it,

I greet my neighbors

and the mailman

as I water the flowers

on the porch.

I put my laundry out into the wind

and smell the coffee

from the next door kitchen

and stop by

for a cup and chat,

because after all,

that’s what neighbors do.

That’s what friends do.

At night, there are beers and a cig,

and long talks,

deep talks,

and a little music,

a little song

that from now on,

reminds me of someone else.

And so the nights and days become weeks.

Then, today,

I woke up

with the old familiar feeling

of being home.

I took it in,

breathed it in,

and tucked it away

for moments of doubt,

of loneliness and separation

because they will come

eventually,

those times,

when I leave, again, yet once more, maybe for the last time,

at the very latest.

But that’s then.

For now,

I am home.