What She Said to Me

Unencumbered, for the first time in years— just me, my work, my thoughts.

And always, you.

The air outside hums with memory, pulling me toward your street, though I know you’re gone— not only in distance but in ways that cut deeper.

The other day a woman told me, “It doesn’t get better, sis.” Thirty years married, a whole life lived, and still she ached.

Her words splintered through me, because I knew exactly what she meant.