You’re a Firework
You leave today. I told myself I wouldn’t cry.
I lied to myself. I couldn’t stop the flow. Since you came along almost 10 years ago, I could always pop in the car and see you whenever I wanted. You lived just across the river. It wasn’t far. Now, I wish I’d made a double dose of that drive. A triple dose. I never should’ve taken the closeness of giggling with you for granted.
Especially now that I don’t have its warming beacon in my world.
You’re somewhere in Georgia now. Maybe Alabama. On your way to Baton Rouge. Lots of cool experiences await you. Don’t hold yourself askance. When you’re scared to death, fight that fear. Experience all the nuanced richness of life. Embrace its flavors and textures, its colors and its hues. Do those things, even when facing them or leaving them brings you to tears.
Part of living is leaving every single thing we care about behind someday. It’s letting things go when it rends our souls. It’s forging something new in the daunting disarray of what’s left. It’s knowing that people love you, even if they can’t see you every day.
Until October, when I see you again. Be a firework in your world, Cayleigh.
I love you.