These days I’m practicing mindfulness every second. I let every smell and sight register. I pace my breaths and try to feel the ground beneath me. Since I moved, I walk every morning and every night, stepping the same street until I’m steady enough to branch off to a new one

You come up to visit me on weekends. I get to wake up to you talking to me, no response needed, and we keep our soft voices on long after my eyes adjust to the light; an unconscious effort to protect this space we’ve made just for us. 

We go out at night with our friends and the volume grows hot-not-warm, pleasant for the variety it offers me. At some point I lose you in the crowd, too involved in the conversation I’m in, but I never worry any more. I know we’ll meet again before the night is through. At some point your hand slips into mine and I make sure to feel it. Maybe we aren’t endless, but our space is timeless.

There’s this story I read growing up called something like Frederick the Fly. While all these other bugs save up food and find places to hide in the winter, Frederick sits out in the sun and listens to the summer ending. When winter comes, all the bugs who called him lazy watch him enjoy his memories of warmth, and of the season he knows will come again, and they ask him to share the things he felt so they could feel warmth too.

I fight off intrusive thoughts in the same way. When you leave early Monday morning, and I think of the car crashes and muggers and falling pianos waiting for us out there I remember what I’ve been mindful for. I have the truths and memories we’ve written folded up in my brain’s pocket. Reality is kinder to me than I anticipate so I don’t run from her anymore.

You leave. I wake up and take my walk. I notice the varying sizes of sidewalks, the taste of my coffee and the time I have left before my sister and I go to school. Tonight I’ll have another shift, and if the bar gets too rowdy and I leave with spilled booze on my t-shirt and a stormy walk home I’ll be happy to have my free meal and the feeling of wind pushing me down the street. The flowers will be fed and I’ll wake up tomorrow and visit the farmer’s market with friends. Today isn’t endless but I can live it timelessly.

It should be boring but it’s the most peaceful I’ve ever been. This isn’t the life I used to have. This is my love and hard work and trial + error in full bloom. Never linear and always growing, I’ve become conscious of myself, understanding of others, and sensitive to my body.  Every second is new, every person is similar to me, and I’m a bug in a baby book with enough patience and light saved up for each moment today + all the days after.