One Day, the Last Time
with prompts inspired by Annie Finch, Kimberly Ann Southwick & Donika Kelly
One day, the last time will come.
That’s a meme I came across on IG at some point this week. You know you’re going through it when memes make you cry and the damn algo just keeps hitting you where it hurts.
Since June 19, I have said goodbye to the job I’ve had for 11 years and moved out of the house I shared with my children for nine years. I feel something that can only be described as a combo of emotive nostalgia and utter shell shock. I moved from a large, busy suburb on the Connecticut shoreline to a small farming community in eastern Connecticut. It may as well be a different planet. Everything is slower, smaller, takes longer to reach. You can drive on a road at night for 10 miles and not see a single soul. The strawberries are sweeter. The lightning storms are closer and more humbling. And the sunsets—well, they are spectacular.
My budding photographer son took the photo below.
The moon. Can we ever really grow tired of it? Photographing it, writing about it, looking up at it as we move from one phase to another in our own lives. The first sentence my son ever uttered was “Look up at the sky!” He reminds me still, to look up. To slow down. To be with whatever is inviting me to be more alive.
This week’s poems are about the moon. I do not apologize.
Look up at the sky. No matter what phase you’re living in. And thank you for being a part of mine.
