New Adult Mystery and Adventure Novelist in Progress
It’s warm now for the first time
in a long time.
I wasn’t sure winter would ever end,
but it did now.
Now it’s warm nights and sunny mornings,
sipping coffee
as the trees bloom all around me.
I’ve never known joy,
at least not like I know it now,
but I know it now.
There’s something beautiful about a big open field; I used to dream about them. The endless green grass, wild flowers growing arbitrarily, wandering around them aimlessly. It’s a kind of calm bliss only achievable in a big open field, unaccompanied on a sunlit day. Maybe it’s something to do with how I spent my childhood, often around fields of lush grass and the soft sound of people just out of sight. Maybe that’s why I have such an affinity for them, they bring back fond memories from a time I only vaguely remember.
A gentle breeze passes, I feel sempiternal, unbreakable, invincible. Laying in the grass, I listen to the birds sing, the faint sounds of cars and people, just far enough away to not be bothersome, but still close enough so I don’t feel alone. I’m at peace, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
There’s something about nostalgia
I obsess over it.
Most of my tattoos are tied to it,
half of my wardrobe is related to it.
I attach myself to the past,
it’s difficult to let it go,
it’s too easy to reflect on,
to reminisce about the Simpler Times.
I find myself playing old games from my childhood,
going for walks where I spent so much time as a child,
but why?
I’m often let down,
the games aren’t what they used to be,
the walks cluttered with litter and nosy people,
but I find myself drawn to it all.
Maybe it’s something to do with the simplicity of it
and how nothing ever seems as simple as back then.
It’s beautiful in the saddest fashion,
how I will never again relive those memories,
and every day they’ll fade more
until I hardly remember them at all.
Lauren Hayden 