another september, Eric Turner

good job. you made it through another month. you know what that means? it means old people are a month younger now. that guy you held the door open for is younger than your grandfather, is the same age as photos of homes you’re farther from. you know what else it means? it means rent is due. rent is always due. it means the credit union will start calling again soon about the late car payment from the month you broke down.

it’s going to start cooling down again soon. and last winter was so barren. you drove around looking at winter wonderlands you weren’t walking in. you won’t do that this time. it’ll be a good christmas. the cinnamon buns will come out of the oven just as the coffee hits. you’ll hug your mom and feel loved. you’ll hug her kinda on the balls of your feet, like you don’t trust it, but arms fully around her, like you know she needs your love too. you’ll squeeze her like old people are getting younger. it will be a good christmas. you’ll get a real tree.

you got nothing done all month. you always feel like that when it switches. like you didn’t do anything. that’s why you had to start taking photos. because you needed proof that something happened. you didn’t take many this month. you were busy surviving. you never take pictures of surviving. you used to think you wanted to hide the struggle, were too proud for it. you used to hate that. but now you know that surviving simply takes too much out of you. you don’t want to remember it. but you wish you had taken more photos of the things you do want to remember. the way she sleeps. that first chilly night

why do you always feel like you’re lying?

because you used to think you were hiding the struggle.

the problem now is everyone understands. they all think they can fix you. they all want your time. next month you won’t give it to them. you’ll stay home. you’ll cook. you’ll take photos of it.

sometimes an intersection, the way you bite a straw, it reminds you of someone you forgot. your mind wandered through its grave plot this month. it didn’t bury you.

you made it through the month. and no one understands what an achievement that is. you wrote a poem about it. it kinda sucks. that’s okay. people will lie to you about it. the one you write next month will be better. next month you’ll like it.