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  • Writer's pictureErin

I'd drive every chance if I could.

now that I think about it,

I should've paid more attention.

I should've memorized every

laugh that came from the living room,

or every smell that came

from the kitchen.

they're still laughing,

but the couch has an open seat.

one that used to hold me.

I could get in the car

and drive to fill it


but then I'd miss out

on the laughter in my own

living room.

I could help my mom

make dinner later tonight,

after she gets home

and finds me waiting on her


but then who'll

fill my kitchen

with the scent

of a late night dinner?

it was simpler back then,

you know?

to decide last minute

that we're all getting up

super early on a Saturday

to go out of town for breakfast.

they still do,

but instead of getting in

the car with my brother,

and singing along

to the radio

with them,

I scroll through

facebook and see

the photos of their happy

morning meal.

I learn about family news

through phone calls

and texts instead of

meetings all together.

it's strange to grieve

the living.

it's even worse to

grieve yourself.

the younger you,

who could sit

and talk to

them for hours

and hours.

the current you,

who misses

calls and hugs and

beautiful moments

while making

memories of your own.

it's different

and may never be

the same again.

the beauty of life

is watching your

new self grow,

while your old self

dies alone.

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