Here Now
By Savannah Benton
Here Now.
I am here now. Where the bluest thing is the sky and the trees are the greenest green I’ve ever seen. I am continually changed by this new place and all it entails.
A few weeks ago we were here, but it was snowing and you were singing about us being strangers. We are still here and that song haunts me in my dreams, even though we are the furthest from ever being strangers. I was a different person then and I am a different person now.
I watch him in the kitchen and I think of how much it hurts to love somebody. That deep, almost unbearable hurt. Yet it’s not the love that hurts, it’s the possibility of anything happening to the object of your love. I make bread anyways and hope the bottom doesn’t burn.
I’ve been making dinner and serving it cold. I watch the leaves go from bare to blossoming and I wonder what our street will look like in 2 weeks. I sit on our porch and watch every car go by waiting for it to be yours.
You play a song on my guitar while the dusk light seeps in through our bedroom window. I cry because these are the happiest days of my life, yet the hardest too.
I am here now and although I never thought I’d make it here or last, I am still here now. And I have no plans of going anywhere. □
