that's all life is,

itouchtouchthings:

203/ November 19, 2010 - A sadness this small

Dear mother, do you remember the time I asked you if I could run away from home and you told me that I could? I thought you’d say no but I was too ashamed to take it back. I tiptoed to my room and took out a green suitcase from under the bed. I packed in a flashlight, a fairy tale, Sunday socks and a jacket.

You stood in the doorway as you watched me make third and fourth trips to the closet, fifth and sixth trips to the bookcase and the toy shelf. I was no longer thinking of what to bring; I wanted to take everything. I wanted to make the bag too heavy so I wouldn’t be able to leave.

I still feel that way sometimes, Ma. On some days, I manage to make it down the stairs; I have my hand on the doorknob but I never turn it. Most days I’m still packing. Even the smallest sadness contains so many belongings.


(Thank you for following my Three-Six-Five here and here. To you I dedicate Thanksgiving.)

(via arianesantos)