I see the ghosts of who I was yesterday everywhere. They line familiar streets and glide through my home.There I am, pushing a swing and there, burning the wooden spoon on a hot, empty pan.
There I am laughing until I cry and crying until I laugh, practicing handstands against the wall, and sleeping.I ask them to make room for me as I move through this day.
And from there, I thank them for who they helped me to become.“Thank you and I’m sorry. I love you, you know.” I tell this to them all, laughing or crying.
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