*pours coffee and invites you to sit down*

Well, we’re back to have coffee. I wasn’t sure if you’d be free . . . or to be honest if I would be free. But here I am! Alive and well, and about to head off to work.

A lot has been on my mind. In fact, I wrote something in my head the other day, and maybe I’ll add it here:

Dear convict,

Do the last ten months continue to drag on? After a sentence of eighteen years, do the last ten months cling to you, reluctant to let change take it’s place? Are you terrified of life outside of your cell, but you want more than anything to be free and alive. To be something besides the shell of a human you are.

Do the last nine months whisper eternity? After proving to yourself that eighteen years is just a blip in time, do the last nine months roll on like the credits before a movie? Are you tired of counting each hour the clock ticks? Or are you spending each moment capturing the last bits of this reality you now know?

Do the last eight months whine forever in your ear? After eighteen years of silence, does the noise just suddenly appear? Are you worried that the world will be too loud for your brain, or are you happy for once that you’re brain will have competition again?

Do the last seven months burn your soul? After eighteen years of ice are you ready to be whole? Do you shiver when the flame comes close to your skin, or do you reach out a grab it, relishing the burn it begins?

Do the last six months laugh at your misery? After eighteen years of sorrow, they just won’t let you free. Each moment you’re still stuck in their vice like grasp, and you’re wondering if this is a dream or if it will really last.

Do the last five months spring over each other? The hope that began is now forever and ever etched in ever dream that echoes in your heart. Creating something for you to watch fall apart.

Do the last four months snicker at your fears? After eighteen years of hell, what else do you have to fear? All who care about you are waiting to welcome you home, but you’re still dwelling on the action that took you far from them.

Do the last three months tighten your chains? After eighteen years do they continue to drain and drain everything you have left for the life you’re about to live, the world you’re about to meet, the family you’re about to be free for?

Do the last two months echo empty praise, promising relief from the eighteen years that have snuck up towards this day? Is there ever a moment where your breath just stops because for the first time in eighteen years you realize your life will no longer stopped.

What about the last thirty days? Each sunset and sunrise of eighteen years have lead to this day, but you still wonder what you’re going to say. Who will you hug when the bars are gone? Who will you love once your chains are sawed off?

And the last day? Does it feel real? Eighteen years. Twenty four hours. Freedom at last.

It’s taken me almost a month to write this post, lol. It’s 2:18 in the morning as I write now. I’ve been so sick the past week, thanks to allergies, so each day I’ve slept for around 15 hours. It’s like my body was on overdrive just to keep me alive and breathing, so in order to do that, it just had to keep me unconscious.

But tonight I’m awake.

I’ve been thinking a lot about knowing yourself. Can you ever really know yourself? Can you know what is best for the person you have to take responsibility for? Can you actually know you’re strengths and weaknesses, can you see who you are, not the person you want to be taken for?

I don’t know.

I wish I did, because it would make life so much easier. It would make each decision so much nicer. No second guessing because you know. You know what’s best and what won’t help. You know the direction of your life, there’s no need for regret.

I wish that was life. And maybe it can be life. If it can, I’ll try to find it.

But for now, I make coffee and tea for a living, come home and try to write novels and create music when I’m not sleeping or eating.

This summer has been empty of the summer vibes that you long for, but I think I’ll always look back at the summer of 2021 with a smile.

It isn’t the pool/sunscreen/watermelon/gardening days of years past. Instead it’s so much exhaustion you can barely peel your eyes open. It’s laughter as you sing off key with your coworkers. It’s learning, growing, stretching, and smiling.

And that’s a good summer to me.

What about you? How’s your summer?

~~Amie~~