to not feel like a child.

At 22, I feel ready to move out,

Be on my own in the big world

But I hesitate because part of me

Feels like I must stay

And be with my family.

To nurse a dying family tree

In futility.

But it’s time for the funeral.

The burial.

Oh how I yearn

To not feel like a child.

To not come home from work

And shed my adult clothes

And climb into my childhood bed

And sleep without dreams.

I’ve outgrown my shoes, 

And yet I still wear them.

I have to remind myself that it’s not running away.

This chapter has been long closed.

In my morning showers,

I pretend I’m there.

My boxes are half unpacked,

Mattress askew on the floor,

And I’m testing out the water pressure

In my new bathroom.

The sun drying my hair

As I sip coffee on my balcony.

I don’t just want to keep staring at the horizon.

I want to touch it with my bare hands.

To finally have a home and a bed to sleep in

that isn’t shaped like the past.