Are we there yet? In the good place?
Are we in that place that sits well with us, where we are finally comfortable and no longer squirming to find places in tight spaces in crowded rooms. Where we are no longer trying to keep everything together with our bare hands, holding each other and exchanging silent hopes of promise for better days.
Are we still sitting in old apartments, making coffee in chipped cups and wondering if we are special, if we will be important. Are we there in the middle of the city, in the new place with the new windows, where we don’t have to worry about the mice and the ants anymore and our shoes are brand new.
Are we still sitting drinking out of those cups because we like them and they remind us of when we were young and you told me I could not know love until I was you and I was looking at me. Are we better or worse, or have we stopped paying attention because all the things we have are so new and lovely? Will we be there when we move into a bigger house, in a nice area for children so we have less time to think about where we are because we are now hoping we are good and important enough.
Are we there then?
What about in the dark when we are alone holding hands and hoping to call this place home for a long time. And when everyone grows up and they’ve had enough of us and they go and try to be special and something, what are we then? Will we look back and wonder about all the times we wished the days would go faster and we thought long nights wouldn’t be missed, when we were building my bed on the floor and laughing at instructions we didn’t understand. And I wonder now, if there is a there, or if “there” was something I missed altogether. Were we there already, were we there then?